The Price of Vengeance
by Shandethe Sanders
Summary: Fifteen years ago, the McKinnons were murdered by Death Eaters. Now the only survivor wants revenge...on Snape.
1. Prologue

Body The Price of Vengeance 

PROLOGUE 

_Devonshire, England 1980_

A soft breeze made the fall leaves rustle as they swept past the small one-story cottage. Inside, candlelight illuminated the small bedroom. 

"I think that's it for tonight, Tony," Kevin McKinnon said, closing the storybook. His five-year-old son, Anthony, looked up at him.**__**

**__**  
"Please, Da? One more story?"  
  
The Auror smiled and shook his head. "I'd love to, Anthony, but we have to get up early tomorrow."  
  
The small boy groaned. "But why do we have to move?"  
  
Kevin brushed a strand of Anthony's reddish-brown hair--the same as his own--out of the boy's eyes. "Because bad people are after us, Tony. They want to hurt us. So we have to hide for awhile."  
  
Anthony pouted.   
  
Kevin smiled. "That's exactly how I feel, too. But we have no choice." He picked the boy up off the chair, and swung him around. Anthony shrieked with glee. 

"For God's sake, Kevin," a woman's voice came from the doorway, "Are you putting Tony to bed or not?" 

Kevin looked up to see his wife, Alice, leaning against the doorjamb. Her delicate features were highlighted by the soft lanternlight of the bedroom. Her pale blue robes swished a little as she made her way over to the bed. 

Anthony closed his eyes as his father covered him and kissed him goodnight. Alice did the same, and they closed the door quietly behind them. 

Kevin collapsed in a heap on the sofa in the living room. Alice sat down next to him. "Tired?"  
  
"No, of course not. That was the 'well-rested collapse' you just witnessed," Kevin answered wryly. **__**

**__**

Alice laughed and kissed him on the nose. "It's no wonder. If you and Anthony were left to your own devices, neither of you would ever get any sleep."  
  
Kevin shrugged. "What can I say? He's a fascinating conversationalist." He smiled at his wife. "At any rate, he'll be up for the move."  
  
Alice sighed. "And we'll be out of danger?"  
  
"That's the plan." Kevin replied, trying to make light of it. Seeing the worried look on her face, he put an arm around her shoulders. "Look, I promise you that everything will be fine. All right?"  
  
Alice smiled and snuggled closer. "All right." 

At that moment, the front door exploded inward in a blast of light and fire. **__**

**__**

_Then again, maybe not, _Kevin thought as he and Alice lept to their feet. "Alice, get Anthony! Get out of here!" Kevin shouted.   
  
Five Death Eaters stood in the doorway. The one in front, presumably their leader, smiled behind his mask. "A very good suggestion, Mr. McKinnon. And may we suggest 'duck and cover' next?" 

Alice ran to her son's door. Her hand was barely on the knob before the Death Eater shouted, _"Avada Kedavra!"_   
  
A flash of green light enveloped Alice McKinnon. The next minute, she lay sprawled face-down next to the closed bedroom door. 

"NO!" Kevin screamed, and started to run to his wife's body--but one of the other Death Eaters snapped their fingers, and chains encircled themselves around his wrists and fastened to the ceiling, pinning his arms above his head. His breath came in swift, ragged gasps. "What..do you want from us?"**__**

**__**

The head Death Eater walked up to him, until their faces were very close. "Information. If you'd be so kind, that is," he said, his cold gray eyes glinting cruelly. "I understand you have a son as well..."  
  
Kevin looked down at the body of his wife, then back at the Death Eater. "Leave him alone. He's done nothing."  
  
"Of course," the Death Eater replied smoothly. "After you answer our questions, we'll let you and your son go free."  
  
Kevin didn't believe that for a second, but he knew that unless he played along, both he and Anthony would be killed right away. 

  
He closed his eyes, and let out a defeated breath. "Very well. Tell me what you want to know." 

************************* 

Anthony rubbed his eyes, sitting up in bed. Were those screams part of a dream? If so, why had they awakened him?**__**

**__**

He threw back the covers, suddenly thirsty. He opened the door a crack--_what's Mum doing lying on the floor? And where's Dad?_

He looked up, and saw his father hanging from the ceiling by his wrists. He wanted to scream, but he found that he could not manage sound. And those strange people in masks...he remembered what his father had said. _"Bad people are after us, Tony. They want to hurt us."_

He saw one of the other Death Eaters step closer to his father. Whisper to him. His father looked up at the masked man, and nodded ever so slightly. 

Shaking like leaf, Anthony inched closer to the door, thinking maybe he could stop it--maybe he could save his father-- 

--something stepped in front of the crack. All he could see was the back of a black-robed figure, before the door suddenly shut, causing him to fall backwards. Then he saw the flash of green light from the crack under the door. 


	2. Part One

Body **Part One**

_Present-day London_

He cut across the street, hoping no one would hit him on his way. It was a gorgeous August day, though quite cool for summer. Dressed in his Muggle clothes--dark blue jeans, a black shirt and a battered leather bomber jacket tied around his waist--he knew he blended in perfectly. For some reason, he was always paranoid that someone would be able to tell at a glance. He imagined some random Muggle walking up to him and saying, "Hey, you're a _wizard!"****_

_****_

A smile played across the young man's handsome features, making his brown eyes light up a little. As if Muggles were that smart. **__**

**__**

He was indeed a young man, twenty years old at a glance. He stood about six feet tall, with a slightly muscular build. His reddish-brown hair was a bit too long, and barely brushed the collar of his jacket. 

He stopped in front of an old, abandoned-looking building. Who would have guessed that inside this falling-apart structure was the Ministry of Magic Headquarters? 

He pulled out his wand, making sure no one was watching, and tapped it against the door. Once, twice, three times. 

The door swung open, and Anthony McKinnon stepped inside.**__**

**__**

An explosion of light and color met his eyes. The floor was finished with white marble, and the main desk looked as though it had been carved from the same. Witches, wizards, hags and ogres waited in dark wooden chairs. High-ranking officials stood off to one side talking, gesturing as they did. 

Anthony forced himself to battle the crowd and make his way to the main desk. A harried-looking witch in spectacles glared at him. "Do you have an appointment?" 

"Yes," he replied. 

  
"Name?" she asked irritably. 

"Anthony McKinnon," he answered. 

The witch sighed, obviously disappointed to see he really did have an appointment. "Fine. Mr. Fudge will see you now. Up that set of stairs, go down the hallway on your right, first doorway on your left."  
  
Anthony nodded. "Thank you." 

He left the witch to deal with a rather nasty-looking vampire and made his way up the stairs. His adoptive family, the Revels, were one of Europe's richest and most influential families. That was probably the only reason the Minister of Magic would consent to see him. 

He'd come to London for one reason and one reason alone: to find out who killed his parents and bring them to justice. Fudge might be able to open the files from his parents' murder if he asked in the right manner. 

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed Fudge's door--how, he didn't now, as it had a gigantic "MINISTER OF MAGIC" brass plaque on the front. He reached up and knocked. 

The door swung open. Cornelius Fudge sat at his desk, reading the latest issue of the _Daily Prophet, _ sipping a cup of tea. He didn't appear to notice the newcomer. 

"Uh..sir?" 

Fudge jumped, nearly spilling tea on his violently purple pinstriped robes. "Ah! Mr....McKinnon, is it? Come inside." 

Anthony stepped in the office. It was less imposing than he'd first imagined. Shelves lined the walls, packed with books. On the desk were several more books and a clutter of paperwork, which, judging by the lumps underneath, buried several family photographs and their frames. 

"Well now, boy, sit down, sit down," Cornelius Fudge said, literally drawing him a chair out of thin air. It dropped to the ground in front of his desk. Anthony took a seat.**__**

**__**

"I must say I was surprised to hear you were coming by, Mr. McKinnon." Fudge said, setting aside his tea and newspaper. "I thought you were still in France." 

Anthony shook his head. "I've secured a flat in London temporarily." He'd worked for two years for the Dark Arts Defense League where it was headquartered in Paris, as an intern after his graduation from Beaxbatons. 

"I see," Fudge said. "And your family? The Revels? How are they?"  
  
"They're fine, sir," Anthony responded. Marguerite and Henri Revel had adopted him when he was eight and moved him to France, where Henri was originally from. Marguerite herself was from Kent. They had always treated him as though he were their own, but no amount of kindness could ever make the horrors of his past disappear. He wondered briefly if Fudge was going to let him get down to business or just chatter inanely all day.**__**

**__**

As if reading his mind, Fudge clapped his hands. "Now, then. What did you want to see me about?"  
  
"Well, sir," Anthony said, "I came here in the hope of reopening the case of my parents' murder." 

Fudge stared at him, stunned. "You want to...what? Oh, come now, my boy, surely you don't want to dredge all that up again.."  
  
"I do." It was only two words, but the forcefulness of his tone and the steely glint his brown eyes took said volumes. 

"Those records have been sealed for years. No perpetrator was caught. The Dark Mark was, if I recall correctly, ablaze above your house--"  


Anthony had a sudden flashback, sitting huddled on his bedroom floor, unable to get out of his room, the shimmering light outside his window. He looked up and saw that evil skull and snake...his parents dead...he couldn't seem to rid himself of that cold, clammy feeling. 

Quickly he shook himself, hoping Fudge hadn't seen. 

He hadn't. "--and it was clearly the work of You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters. Most of whom we have, either dead or in Azkaban." 

"Not all of them," Anthony replied. "Plenty escaped, and we both know it." 

"Even so, Mr. McKinnon, there's no reason to reopen the case-" 

"Except to find the truth!" Anthony exclaimed. "Can't you understand that, Mr. Fudge?" 

The Minister of Magic was clearly taken aback. "What I understand is that it will do no good," he said angrily. "And even if I did have the power to reopen the case, I wouldn't do it!"  


Anthony stood up, his dark eyes blazing. For a moment, he looked as if he was considering throttling Fudge. 

Finally, he swallowed. "Good day, then, Mr. Fudge. I am sorry to have taken up your time." 

With that, he turned and stormed out of the office. 

******************* 

_Well, well, well_, thought Lucius Malfoy as he watched the auburn-haired young man exit Fudge's office. _Little Anthony wants to find out what happened to his parents. How very touching.   
  
_There was a tap on his shoulder. He turned, and there stood his assistant, Loki Lestrange. 

"I've got those papers you needed, sir." Loki said.  
  
"Ah. Thank you, Lestrange," Malfoy replied, taking them from the dark-haired young man. "Fudge will have to sign these now...but wait just a moment..."  
  
"What is it, sir?" Loki asked. 

Malfoy didn't answer. "Excuse me, Mr. McKinnon?"  
  
McKinnon turned around. He didn't look very much like his father, Lucius decided. Aside from the same hair color, Anthony resembled his mother. "What?" he demanded, his tone none too welcoming. 

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lucius Malfoy," he said with a slight bow. He waved a hand to his assistant. "And this is my assistant, Loki Lestrange. We couldn't help overhearing your..ah.._discussion_ with the Minister."  
  
McKinnon crossed his arms over his chest. "What of it?" 

Malfoy looked around, then back at McKinnon. "Why don't we step inside my office for a moment? We can talk there." The papers could wait. 

McKinnon considered this. "Fine." 

"Follow me, then." Malfoy started down the hall, flanked by McKinnon and Lestrange. 

***************************** 

Anthony once again found himself in a Ministry official's office. This one was very different from Fudge's pleasant clutter. The furniture was made of dark, polished wood, and everything was in perfect order. Not even the pictures on the desk, which were mostly of a blonde woman and a young boy, were out of line. He didn't think they would dare to be.**__**

**__**

"Have a seat, Mr. McKinnon," Malfoy said, gesturing toward one of the chairs in front of his desk. 

Anthony pulled up his chair, and sat down, all the while studying Lucius Malfoy. Like his office, everything about this man was smooth and immaculate. He was in his mid to late forties, at least. His sleek black hair was combed back perfectly, and he wore a black cloak over dark green robes. He seemed to give the air of someone who knew exactly what he wanted and exactly how to get it. 

"Close the door, Lestrange," Malfoy ordered his assistant, who obliged. 

Loki, Malfoy had called him. Anthony knew the name from his studies--Loki was a Norse god, sometimes called the 'Sly One' or 'Trickster', and this man definitely looked the part. Loki's black hair was thick and shining, which made a startling contrast against his pale skin, and would have been handsome if it hadn't been for the cold, crafty look in his blue-green eyes. Though he was dressed normally in plain gray-and-violet robes, there was something about this young man that struck Anthony as being wild--like an animal in a cage.**__**

**__**

Lestrange stood next to the closed door, while Malfoy sat down at his desk.   
  
"So what do you want?" Anthony asked. He was perfectly aware that his tone was less than civil. 

Malfoy smiled. "My boy, all I want is to help you. As I said, I heard your discussion with Fudge. He is none too sensitive when it comes to personal matters."  
  
"So I've noticed," Anthony replied, warming a little. "Can you help me?" 

"I believe so," Lucius Malfoy said. "Only...if Fudge does know, I can understand why he wouldn't want to tell you."  


"Why?"  
  
"Because, boy, it concerns the delicate matter of a Death Eater who walked free."  
  
Anthony sat up straighter. "What do you mean?" 

************************ 

_This is almost too easy,_ Lucius Malfoy thought as he studied Anthony McKinnon's determined expression. _He's desperate enough to turn to me for help, and naive enough to trust me._ Little fool--well, they didn't have that saying 'like father, like son' for nothing, did they? 

Easy as it was, it would also prove useful. 

"Well..." Malfoy did his best to look hesitant and apologetic as he tested the waters. "Your father, in his work as an Auror, put several of the Dark Lord's most important Death Eaters in Azkaban. Shortly before his death, he caught Antonin Dolohov. Dolohov, it appeared, had information about Dumbledore's revolt against the Dark Lord.The Death Eaters were desperate to get to it."  
  
"So they went after my family," Anthony said, suddenly understanding. His fists clenched at his sides. "Do you know who killed my father?"  
  
"Why, the Death Eaters, of course," Malfoy replied smoothly. "However, if you're asking who delivered the killing blow, I have only a guess there." He had to try hard not to smile. It really was perfect. He'd be able to get rid of his rival once and for all, with no one the wiser. Best of all, he wouldn't have to hire someone to do it. Good help was, after all, so hard to find these days. 

McKinnon leaned forward. "And that guess is..?"  
  
"His name..." Malfoy sighed. "His name is Snape. Severus Snape. He works at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as the Potions Master."  
  
Anthony sat there in silence. "Do you have proof of this, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
"All I have, Mr. McKinnon, is the knowledge that Severus Snape was, and most likely still is, a Death Eater. A most clever and cunning one. It was suspected, but there was no concrete evidence. He walked away, alive and free."  
  
Anthony's hands gripped the arms of his chair tightly. "If he is responsible for my father's death, he won't be alive for much longer. I can promise you that." 

********************* 

_Yes, definitely perfect,_ Malfoy thought, watching the young man's reaction. Hellbent on revenge, this boy was. "I understand you're staying in London. I'll have the files concerning you parents' deaths sent to your flat." 

McKinnon nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. You've been most helpful" He stood up, and nodded to both Malfoy and Lestrange. "A good day to you both." 

With those words, he left the office. 

"Hot-headed, that one," Malfoy remarked. "Impulsive, too. One of these days that's going to land him into trouble." 

Loki grinned. "I see where this is going. You get McKinnon to kill Snape."  
  
"Which he will definitely do when he finds out that Snape can't be punished by law." Malfoy said. "Dear, dear. My poor old colleague won't know what hit him." 

"Why don't you just kill him yourself? You know, out while you're doing some Death Eater thing, accidentally hit him with the Avada Kedavra curse--"  
  
"No, my dear Loki," Lucius said with a smile. "As always, you are too eager for the kill. Such things have to be done with an artistry--a finesse, if you will. Otherwise, we are no different than simple animals." 

"So you're going to take advantage of that boy's naivete, then? Just like that?"  
  
"Just like that," Malfoy replied. "Sometimes, Lestrange, I amaze even myself. Now, then," he said, standing up. "Let us go and pay Mr. Fudge a visit." 

(A/N: Enjoying this so far? I decided to do a departure from my usual, and do a non-romance fic, just for the heck of it. Fear not, I _do_ plan on finishing "Friends Never Say Goodbye". The next chapter is coming along nicely. ;)) 


	3. Part Two

Body Part Two

During the Triwizard Championship last year, Severus Snape had considered Fleur Delacour to be a talented, intelligent witch--albeit vain and a little shallow. Definitely temperamental. 

He tolerated her now, mainly because he had learned two weeks ago that he was going to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts post next year--after training his replacement.   
  
The replacement being, of course, Fleur. He'd studied her transcripts of Beauxbatons, and spoken to her Potions Master. She'd do nicely for the job, provided she could stop looking in the bloody mirror for ten seconds.**__**

**__**

And now here he was, waiting for her in his office, shortly following the start-of-term banquet. She was probably still off with that Weasley boy...Bill? He never could keep all those blasted Weasley children straight. It didn't really matter. As far as he was concerned, the combination of red hair and freckles automatically equaled trouble. 

Finally, Fleur Delacour swept into his office. She wore robes of a bright blue that matched her eyes perfectly, and set off her silvery-blonde hair. 

__

"You're late," Snape said. 

"I am sorry, Professor," Fleur said breathlessly. One look at his face told her he wasn't in the mood for excuses. "You wished to see me, sir?" 

"That may be why I called you to my office," Snape replied, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "Have a seat, Miss Delacour."  
  
Fleur sank delicately into the chair in front of his desk. 

"Miss Delacour," he began, "We've already gone over what your work here will require. I asked to see you because I want to make sure we have an understanding." 

Fleur looked back at him, her blue eyes blank. 

"I don't tolerate any nonsense. None whatsoever. I run a tight class, assign a lot of work, talk fast, and I don't repeat myself. Your instructors at Beauxbatons have informed me that you are capable, but," a slight sneer played on the Potions Master's mouth, "Let us just say that I will believe _that_ when I see it." 

He distinctly saw Fleur's mouth twitch. He'd done it. He'd managed to hit a nerve. Then again, was that any surprise? Snape had been an expert at just that all his life. Trying very hard not to smile, he stood up. "I will see you first thing tomorrow at eight o'clock sharp. Do you understand?"  
  
The Delacour girl nodded. Oh, yes, she was angry. She'd probably curse his name most of the time, but as long as she followed orders, Snape honestly couldn't have cared less.   
  
"That is all," he declared, and Fleur swept out. 

_Now _this_ is going to be an interesting year_, he thought sardonically. 

******************************************* 

Anthony purposely left his living room window open that evening. The air was pleasantly light and cool, and his flat was so stiflingly hot. 

Besides, since his parents' deaths, the endless hours that had passed in his bedroom before the other Aurors found him, he'd never been able to stand totally enclosed spaces for very long. 

The air caressed his face, and ruffled his auburn hair. That was better. 

_Don't worry, Mum. Don't worry, Da. I'll avenge you. _

The young man paced in his quarters, and nearly knocked over the packet of papers on the coffee table. The papers Malfoy had sent him. A plan was forming in his mind...yes, it was perfect. Or rather, the prelude to a plan. A visit to St. Mungo's was in order, he thought as he glanced over at the papers again. 

  
He picked them up, and leafed through them one more time. Snape would die for his crimes. If the law wouldn't punish him, Anthony McKinnon sure as hell would. His whole world had been destroyed in that one night. There was no forgiving that sort of thing. 

As Severus Snape would soon find out...the hard way. 

******************************** 

The next morning, Severus Snape began his daily ritual wrestling match with the clasp of his cloak. The thing was old, but it had served him well on many occasions. It was discreet, plain, and--like nearly everything else he owned--black. Black was his preferred color, because it not only made a statement, but hid most stains quite effectively. **__**

**__**

_Damn thing,_ he cursed as the clasp escaped his long fingers yet again. One of these days he'd have to break down and buy a new cloak. A smirk flickered across his sallow features. He said that every morning, and he had yet to actually do it. 

He had to admit that most of the value was sentimental. The cloak had been a gift from his father when he graduated from Hogwarts. Though he wasn't sure if that made much sense, either, as Severus was no longer on speaking terms with his father, and hadn't been for at least fifteen years. 

Septimus Snape was a wealthy, respectable mediwizard. He was quite down to earth, at least compared to other pureblood wizards Severus was acquainted with. He wasn't haughty, or arrogant, or anything else most of the wealthy purebloods the Professor knew. He did, however, retain that old Snape pride. 

The truth was, he'd never really known the man, even though they'd lived in the same house for years. One of the family maidservants, Pira, the Spanish witch who had cared for him since he was an infant--had told him how different his father was when his mother had still been alive. How much Severus acted like her at times. 

_Maybe that's why he was never around. Always at the hospital. Saint Septimus of the Lost Causes._

And then he'd become a Death Eater. Quite possibly one of the most idiotic things he'd ever done, though it had made some sense at the time. He was pureblood, he hadn't been fond of the Muggles and Mudbloods he'd been exposed to. And with his friends--or at least, those he believed to be his friends--he'd been _accepted_, for the first time in his life. Respected because of his abilities, and, as he'd believed at the time, his worth as a person.  
  
Then he'd learned what being a Death Eater truly meant. Torture. Murder. All those things most were afraid even to discuss, Severus had seen firsthand. And, to put it bluntly, it had scared the living hell out of him. 

One night, he came to a decision. He couldn't serve the Dark Lord anymore. And he went home, and told his father. What had he been looking for? Support? 

In any case, it hadn't happened. His father had been furious to learn that his only son was a Death Eater--not giving him the chance to explain that he wanted to change. Septimus told his son on no uncertain terms that if he left the house, he never wanted to see him again. 

And Severus had left. That was the last time he saw his father. 

Dr. Snape was still alive, still working at St. Mungo's. He still lived in that same house, with the same servants. 

_In other words, my leaving changed nothing. Why am I not surprised?_ It was a depressing thought, to be sure, but not a surprising one. 

At long last, Snape managed to fasten the clasp. Time to play his part again. 

With one final tug on his faulty clasp, he started for his morning session with the Hufflepuff dunderheads. 

********************************* 

"What did you do this time?" Dr. Snape asked wearily, as he checked over the young woman's shoulder, which was covered for the most part in cuts and bruises. She tapped her feet on the leg of the observation table she was sitting on. 

The woman, an attractive Spanish witch in her mid-thirties, shrugged--and winced. "I was running to catch up with the thief, and when I tackled him, I landed hard on the ground."  
  
"More like your shoulder landed hard on the ground," Dr. Snape said wryly as he cleaned the cut. 

"Ouch, that stings!"  
  
"It should. That means the disinfectant is working," the doctor replied. "Stay still, Mariela."  
  
Maria Aurelia, or "Mariela" Chavez did her best to obey. Working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as an officer, visits to St. Mungo's were practically routine for her. She was there at least once a week. 

Her mother, Pira Santiago, had worked for Dr. Snape ever since she could remember, as a maidservant and caretaker for his son, Severus. 

She studied the elder Snape. He was as tall as she remembered Severus being, and thin, with silver-streaked black hair that fell just below his shoulders. His face was lined, but no more so than most wizards in their mid-sixties. Still, there were dark circles under his eyes that led Mariela to wonder if Dr. Snape _ever_ took a break from his work. 

"How's the husband?" Dr. Snape asked as he finished bandaging her shoulder. 

"Gabriel's doing fine," Mariela said. "And Tessa and Graciela are shooting up like weeds." Her daughters, aged nine and six, were notorious for their boundless energy.  
  
"Children that age usually do," Dr. Snape said. He was smiling, but Mariela couldn't help noticing a sad, faraway look in his slate-blue eyes. 

"You okay, Doc?" 

Septimus nodded. "Fine," he replied, brushing a strand of silver-streaked hair out of his eyes. "It's just been a long day."  
  
"Tell me about it," Mariela said with grin that made her amber eyes light up. She briefly pondered asking how Severus was doing--but she knew for a fact Septimus normally ignored the boy's existence. She wasn't sure of the exact events of the night, but Severus had left and she hadn't seen him since. _Why am I thinking of him suddenly? I haven't seem him in nearly fifteen years!_

Dr. Snape smiled. "I know this is completely useless for me to say," he said wearily, "But be careful, won't you? Your daughters need their mother."  
  
Mariela held up one hand. "Officer's honor."  
  
Dr. Snape rolled his eyes. "I'm going to hold you to that promise," he told her sternly, as she got up from the table. 

Mariela waved--and winced. "See you later!" she called as she strolled out of the room. 

  
Dr. Snape rolled his eyes again. "Hopeless," he said to the empty room at large. If there was a crazier witch on planet Earth than Mariela Chavez, he didn't want to know her.   
  
He could remember the days on his family estate, when Severus....the elder Snape shook himself. Better not to think of his son, the way the boy had betrayed everything Septimus had ever worked for--not to mention the family honor. There were a lot of things Septimus Snape was perfectly willing to tolerate, but a Death Eater son was _not_ one of them. 

The boy was alive--though he wouldn't be a boy anymore, would he? He'd be....thirty-six in November, Dr. Snape remembered. Severus had black hair and black eyes--much like his Gypsy mother's. 

_So much for not thinking of Severus._

Livia Snape had been a descendent of the Kalderash clan, a tribe of Gypsies that had come to England in the early forties to escape Nazi persecution. Septimus often thought that Severus had gotten most, if not all of his spirit and his fire from her. It certainly hadn't come from him. 

_Oh, hell, Septimus,_ he thought in disgust. _Livia's dead, Severus....isn't here anymore, and living in the past won't bring either one back. So get over it and get on with your life!_

Dr. Snape picked up his clipboard, and started preparing for his next patient. _Anthony McKinnon,_ he read. Where had he heard that name before? 

**************************** 

Fleur Delacour was already there when Snape arrived at the dungeons that morning. "Good morning, Professor," she greeted him. 

Snape barely nodded his own greeting. "You're on time" he commented. He sounded almost disappointed. "We're making Deflecting Draughts today." He handed her a piece of parchment. "The recipe is here. Copy that onto the blackboard."  
  
Fleur took the parchment, and began to write on the board. Snape turned away from the student teacher as he watched the fifth-year students file into the room. 

When everyone had been seated, Snape moved to the front of the room. The class immediately fell silent. Snape smiled inwardly--this was definitely one of his favorite things about the job. 

"Most of you already know my assistant this year, Fleur Delacour," Snape said, with a dismissive gesture towards the silver-haired girl. "I am sure you will show her the same respect that you show me."  
  
More than one snicker sounded at that, but they were silenced quickly under Snape's glare. And so the lesson began. 

  
He was pleasantly surprised to discover that Fleur Delacour indeed knew what she was doing when it came to Potions. At least she had that much going for her. However, the males in his classes were experiencing either mass brain damage or the effects of Delacour's veela heritage. Possibly both.**__**

**__**

"It helps if you keep your eyes on the _cauldron_, Finnigan," Snape said irritably as he swept past the Gryffindor's cauldron. The sandy-haired Irish boy was busy staring at Fleur, who was assisting Parvati Patil at the other end of the dungeon, causing him to drop a spoonful of crushed beetle powder on the ground. "Three points from Gryffindor."   
  
Ah, the defeated look of anger and resentment on a Gryffindor's face. Snape's day was looking up already. 

It had gotten off to a rocky start, because of the memories of his father and his other life (which was how he now referred to his pre-Death Eater days) haunting him. On his way to class, he'd taken ten points from Ravenclaw, fifteen points from Gryffindor (well, eighteen after Finnigan's) and five points from Hufflepuff before his mood had improved. 

"Non, non," Fleur was saying to Parvati. "I mean, no, no. You must add the beetle powder _after _the bezoar, ozzerwise it goes _woosh_, like zis, you see?" The veela-girl sketched a mushroom cloud in the air with her arms. "I did zat in my third year at Beauxbatons, and _Mon Dieu,_ what a mess!"  
  
Parvati and Lavender giggled, and some of the other students chuckled as well. Snape felt his blood pressure rising. 

"Delacour!" Snape barked. "Get up here!"  
  
Fleur turned abruptly, her blue eyes wide. "Sir--"  
  
"NOW!"  
  
Fleur scurried up to the front of the classroom, half-expecting Professor Snape to pull out his wand and curse her on the spot. 

Snape was quite annoyed. "Miss Delacour, I do not know how they conducted Potions lessons at Beauxbatons, but I do _not_ permit idle chitchat in my class! Is that understood?" A nasty smirk played on his sallow features. "You don't have my job just yet, girl." 

The French witch's ears reddened visibly, and Snape was pleased to see he'd managed to take her down a notch. "I am sorry, sir. It won't happen again."  


"Good. Go to my office and get the spider's legs, then." 

"Yes, Professor." Still blushing, Fleur left the room. 

************************** 

Since the Triwizard Championship last year, Fleur Delacour had been in contact with with Bill Weasley. Over the summer, they'd exchaged many letters (causing Fleur's mother to remark on the absence of their owl more than once). Now that Fleur was living in the United Kingdom and Bill had been transferred to Yorkshire, they were able to see each other more often.**__**

**__**

Since the first time Fleur had glimpsed the oldest Weasley, she'd known he was different from anyone she'd ever met. All right, that was an overstatement--she'd realized it after talking to him. For one thing, he didn't fall all over himself for her. He treated her like a _person_, not just a mindless pretty doll. 

That evening, the young couple sat outside the castle, in the courtyard. Dusk was falling, and the first stars were making their appearance in the sky. 

"So," Bill said, leaning back on the bench, "How was your first day as Snape's apprentice?"  
  
Fleur groaned. "Professor Snape eez very talented in his field, but--_Sacre Bleu_, what a temper!" She put the back of her hand to her forehead dramatically. "I do not know if I shall survive zee year!"  
  
Bill laughed, and brushed a strand of her silver-blond hair out of her eyes. "You'll do fine, I'm sure." 

Fleur smiled. "I am glad you are so sure." Bill's confidence was one thing she truly valued in him. He always seemed so secure in himself--something that Fleur herself had never felt completely, though to the rest of the world she presented a very different image. 

"Seriously," Bill said, sitting up straighter. "What's the worst Snape can do to you?"  
  
"With him, I am never sure! He is most unpredictable!"  
  
Bill laughed. "That's the understatement of the year, but forgivable under the circumstances. What I mean is, if he doesn't kill you--and he won't--you have nothing to worry about."  
  
Fleur rolled her eyes. "I wish I could believe zat! But it doesn't matter--I have a feeling zat no matter what I do, he will think me a lightweight."  
  
"Are you?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Well, then," Bill said, crossing his arms over his chest and raising one eyebrow. "There you go. You're _not_ a lightweight, and you know that. That's what's important."**__**

**__**  
Fleur smiled, and her blue eyes lit up as she leaned in closer to Bill. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him. "We will see." she murmured, closing her eyes. 

*********************** 

Night was falling by the time Lucius Malfoy left his office. It was nearly nine o'clock before he got home.**__**

**__**

Reading the note in their bedchamber, Lucius found that Narcissa was going to stay the night with her family in Kent. 

He made himself a cup of tea, and settled down in the study. Outside, the night was clear and cool. 

_And soon the night will once again belong to the Dark Lord_, he thought, his handsome features twisting into a smile. _The creatures of the night will rule even in the day--_

__

_And I will be rid of Severus Snape._

__

__Ever since the younger man had joined the Death Eaters, Malfoy had known he wasn't truly one of them. And there was a rumor circulating that he was a spy for Dumbledore--though Snape himself claimed that his loyalty still remained with the Dark Lord. 

  
Malfoy knew why the Dark Lord hadn't killed Snape already. If Snape _was_ working for Dumbledore--well, he meant something to the old fool--and he'd make an excellent bargaining chip if worst came to worst. **__**

**__**

And in the meantime, none of his other servants could get as close to Dumbledore as Snape could.**__**

**__**

That just added fuel to the fire--the fact that he was _sure_ the man wasn't with them, but he couldn't _prove_ it...... 

But if McKinnon were to kill Snape--well, that would take care of the whole problem right there. And if McKinnon were to torture him first....that would just be an added bonus. 

_Enjoy your time while it lasts, Severus. You're a marked man, in more ways than one._

********************************* 

Anthony McKinnon leaned against the tree trunk as he looked around the park. It was empty at this time of night, and all the more peaceful for it. He remembered the park near his old house, and how his parents sometimes took him there on weekends. 

It wasn't that he hadn't been happy with the Revels. Henri and Marguerite were probably the best adoptive parents that an orphan kid could hope for. He'd even managed to convince them--and himself, for awhile--that he was a normal, happy child, who grew up without remembering the terrible events of his childhood. Or rather, the last night of his childhood. He had****died that night--everything that he was had disappeared for good. Just like that. 

_You don't have to do this._

_Yes, I do,_ he argued with himself, _I have to deliver vengeance. If I don't, who will?_

_Malfoy could have been lying._

__

_Ridiculous,_ Anthony fumed, _Why would he do that?_

__

_He's a politician. Why else?And didn't you notice how eager he was to hand over that information?_

_Oh, shut up._

Anthony closed his eyes, trying to get his bearings together. Vengeance was necessary. The law couldn't punish Severus Snape. And how could he let a murderer walk free?  
  
He couldn't. 

Earlier in the day, he had gone to see Dr. Septimus Snape at St. Mungo's, under the guise of needing a checkup. The doctor had been a great help--although it was unlikely that the elder Snape knew this. 

  
Dr. Snape hadn't said a word about Severus. But Anthony had noticed the way the man's shoulders had tensed when Anthony talked about his own father. And how he nearly dropped a glass when he asked Dr. Snape if he had any children of his own. That was enough to suggest to Anthony that the Snapes probaby weren't on very friendly terms. _I can't imagine why,_ he thought sardonically. It was safe to assume that Dr. Snape didn't want to talk about the younger Snape at all. It was almost as though he were trying to pretend he didn't have a son. 

_Now what?_

Anthony pulled the notepad out of his pocket, and looked over the notes he had written. Ideas, really, of what he could do to Severus Snape before he finally dealt the killing blow. 

_You don't have to do this._

Anthony sighed, and closed the book, stuffing it back in his jacket pocket. 

_Yes, I do._

(A/N: Thanks to the wonderful beta-readers at http://www.sugarquill.com for all their help with this story.) 


	4. Part Three

Part Three

_Severus Snape's Journal, Wednesday morning_

_"Why are you this way?"_

__

_It feels like people have been asking me just that for most of my life. 'This way' , in case you are wondering, means sarcastic, tactless, and bitter. (I do not consider myself bitter, but this is what I've heard from other people. I know for a fact that I can be tactless and sarcastic!)_

__

_So. Why am I this way?_

__

_Let's see. I grew up in a nice home. I had a mother and a father. I don't remember my mother very well, though--she died when I was four years old. My father was--and still is--a respected doctor. I have already ranted extensively on the subject in previous journal entries, so I won't waste the ink._

__

_We had a few servants, and I even had a few friends--Mariela Santiago and Gabriel Chavez. I have pictures to prove it, in case you doubt my word.  
  
So why am I this way? _

__

_I honestly don't know. I don't believe in destiny or fate. There is no such thing as either. There is only life, and what we make of it. I've made a mess of mine, I believe! If I tried to explain why I am the way I am, it would sound too much like an excuse. I have no tolerance whatsoever for any kind of excuses, especially not from myself. Excuses seem weak, and I would rather be dead than weak!_

_  
I know Dumbledore does not agree with me here. His ideas of weakness and my own are quite different. _

__

_There is nothing to be done for the past now. All I can do is look to the future. And at the moment, it does not look particularly bright._

__

__Severus put the quill back in the inkwell just as a knock sounded on the door of his quarters. 

"Who is it?" he asked irritably. Not that he had many visitors--it was either Filch, McGonagall or Dumbledore on the other side of the door. Still, given his line of work, he could never be too careful. 

"It's me, Severus. For God's sake, open the door," came the irritated voice of Minerva McGonagall. 

Snape fought the impulse to roll his eyes. Instead, he simply turned in his chair and pointed his wand at the door. "It's open," he called. 

McGonagall entered a second later. "Can't you even open the door for a lady?" she asked in mild disgust. 

Severus shrugged. "Check my resume again, Minerva. Potions expert, double agent....did you happen to see 'gentleman' anywhere on that list?" 

"Hmph. I suppose not," his former Transfiguration professor remarked. "A vain hope on my part. Well, at any rate, I didn't come down here to lecture you on your manners, though someone certainly should." 

Severus sighed. "And why exactly did you come down here, McGonagall?" 

"Dumbledore wants to see you," McGonagall replied. "He's just finished grading the tests for his Defense Against the Dark Arts class." Her thin mouth was pinched with disapproval. "I don't know where someone with as many demands on his time as Dumbledore gets off teaching a _class_ on top of it--but he says he wishes to speak with you." 

"All right. Tell him I'll be there." 

_"Now, _Severus," she snapped, her green eyes narrowing. For a moment, Snape felt as though he were a sixth year again, on the receiving end of a patented Minerva McGonagall Verbal Dressing Down.  
  
Snape rose to his feet and followed McGonagall out of his quarters like an obedient schoolboy. 

"Do you know what he wants to discuss with me?" Snape asked, falling into step beside her. 

"If I did, I'd have said so straight off," McGonagall replied tartly. Snape bit back a smirk. There were many times when Professor McGonagall reminded him of Pira. Well, a Scottish version of Pira, anyway. Clever, sharp-tongued and most of all, _not_ someone you wanted to cross. 

Snape couldn't imagine that Dumbledore wanted to see him simply as a social call. No, it was definitely something to do with the mission. 

Finally, they stopped in front of the gargoyle. "Jelly baby," McGonagall said promptly, and then made a disgusted face. "I don't know where Dumbledore _gets_ these passwords! Off you go, then." 

Snape glanced after Professor McGonagall, and entered Dumbledore's office. 

  
He stopped short. Dumbledore sat at his desk as usual, but there was already someone in a hooded cloak sitting in a chair in front of the desk. 

The Headmaster looked up, and smiled at the Potions Master. "There you are, Severus!"  
  
The other person removed his hood and turned to look at Severus as well. He looked a bit thinner than he had the last time Severus had seen him, but there was no mistaking that graying brown hair or tired gray eyes.   
  
"Lupin," Snape barely glanced at the other man as he took a seat beside him. He simply looked straight ahead, at Dumbledore. "You wished to speak to me?" 

_Why didn't you tell me Lupin was going to be here?_ Snape thought, trying in vain to control his anger, his black eyes boring into Dumbledore's pale blue ones. _Would it have killed you to give me a little warning?_

__

__Dumbledore simply nodded. "Mr. Lupin, at my request, has decided to move to Hogsmeade."  
  
Snape blinked. _Do I care?_ The words almost slipped out of his mouth, but he caught himself just in time. "Er--what about Black?" 

"He'll be in the area," Lupin spoke up. "In his Animagus form, naturally."  
  
"I still fail to see how this concerns me." Though Snape's words lacked their usual force, the resentment was still present in his voice. 

_Why did you return, Lupin? To make me feel guilty for what I did? That night in the Shrieking Shack, or forcing you to resign? I have enough guilt in my life as it is. I don't need more! I would give you all the gold in Gringotts if you'd just go anywhere else but where I am._

__

__"I'm going to be here for awhile," Lupin said, turning to Severus. "I would like to ask you to make the Wolfsbane Potion for me. It would be very much appreciated."   
  
_If I would?!_ Snape wanted to scream. _With Dumbledore sitting here, you know I can't very well refuse. Damn you, Lupin!_   
  
"Very well," he choked out. Damn it all, he couldn't even look Lupin in the eye. And somehow, he sensed that Lupin wasn't very comfortable around him, either. Oddly enough, the thought didn't make him feel much better. 

He suddenly had the urge to leap out of his chair and bolt from the room. Anything to be rid of this shame and guilt that was gnawing at him. 

Miraculously, he remained seated.   
  
"Professor Dumbledore tells me you're working with an apprentice this year," Lupin said out of the blue. "How's that going?"   
  
"Yes, Severus, I wondered that myself," Dumbledore said, leaning forward in his chair. "I asked Fleur Delacour how it was going earlier, but she just shook her head and walked away." His eyes twinkled behind his glasses, and he looked vaguely amused. 

"Fine," Severus managed to say. "Miss Delacour is competent enough." 

The silence that followed was about as awkward as Neville Longbottom's last attempt at potion-making. Even Dumbledore seemed at a loss for words--a rarity, to be sure.  


"She gets on very well indeed with the students," Snape continued. 

"That's wonderful," Lupin remarked, at the same time that Dumbledore said, "Excellent." 

_This is ridiculous_, Snape thought, leaping to his feet. "If that's all you need me for, Headmaster, then I will take my leave now."  
  
"Yes, of course." Dumbledore replied. "I will speak further with you later."  


That probably meant a lecture, if Snape was reading Dumbledore's tone of voice correctly. "Yes, sir," he said, heading out the door as fast as his feet would carry him. 

********************************* 

Anthony McKinnon stepped off the carriage in front of the Hogsmeade Inn. It looked to be a typical day--witches and wizards running about and doing their shopping. 

He hadn't been to Hogsmeade in many years. The last time, in fact, had been with his mother. How old had he been? Four, maybe? Young and innocent as he was then, he never thought he'd be returning to commit murder. 

_No. Not murder. Justice. This is justice._

__

__According to the file, Snape had been interviewed at the scene of the crime, but they'd been unable to detain him. There hadn't been enough evidence. 

Except that he had been present at more than one crime scene afterward. Each time, it had been the work of Death Eaters. Each time, he'd been released. Lack of evidence again, and--the truly puzzling part--he'd been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore. Why would Dumbledore do such a thing for a Death Eater? Anthony had never met Dumbledore, but he had heard that the man was very eccentric. Still, it was more than a little odd. 

  
He could always ask Malfoy, he supposed. Or Lestrange. Both had said that they would help in any way they could. Anthony wondered if Snape had wronged either of them in the past. It seemed likely. 

He'd heard that Malfoy had been accused of being a Death Eater once. And Lestrange's parents had been sent to Azkaban for torturing an Auror and his wife to insanity. 

_So why trust them?_ he mused, as he entered the inn. He was barely even aware of being handed his room key. 

Malfoy was willing to tell him what he wanted to know, which was more than he could say for anyone else. Besides, he couldn't be a Death Eater. He wasn't one of those savage animals. He couldn't be. Hell, if he was, Anthony would probably have already been dead. 

Right? 

But...to actually kill another person....was he really ready for that? Would the feeling after Snape was dead be worse than this burning heat within him at present? 

_Snape is the enemy_, Anthony thought defiantly, making his way up the stairwell. _Remember that. He murdered my parents. He should die. Someone has to._  


Snape would pay for his crimes...and dearly. Anthony would see to that. First, though, he would have to do his research. Blend in with the locals, try to get as much information from them as he could. 

_He should die._

__

__Anthony paused briefly on the stairs, amending his thought. 

__

_He _will _die. _

*************************************** 

The sound of Chopin's "Winterwind" flowed through the corridors of the Snape manor. The night was cool, and the window of the music room was open. Maybe it was too cold for most people's liking, but Septimus Snape liked the cool air. It had a way of slicing through a person, of making them feel alert and awake. 

He sat at the piano-forte, his long fingers flying over the keys in patterns memorized long ago. His eyes were closed as he concentrated only on the sound, letting it pour from his hands onto the keys. Livia Snape had loved Chopin, and he played the song now for her. 

She had been gone more than twenty years--and yet, had it really been that long ago that she was walking these corridors? That she had been chatting gaily with Pira, playing with Severus, and entertaining both father and son with stories of her childhood in Romania? Both of the Snape men had worshipped her. 

Septimus knew that his late wife had been no saint. She'd had a temper that could blast the roof off the house (and had, on many occasions). Her sarcastic sense of humor had a fierce reputation. Just like....but no, he wouldn't think of that now. 

As the last notes of the song died away, Septimus jumped as he heard applause behind him. He looked up, and standing in the doorway was a tall, graceful older woman with olive skin, amber eyes, and graying brown hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes flashed disapprovingly as she observed the chill in the air and the open window. 

"How do you stand it in here?" Pira Santiago demanded by way of greeting. She strode over and shut the window. 

"Good evening to you too, Pira," Septimus replied with a smile. Tact wasn't Pira's strong point, nor had it ever been. 

_"Esta frio!"_ Pira remarked. "You're a doctor, you know better than that, Septimus!" Her English was excellent, though she still maintained a slight accent as proof of her Spanish heritage. 

Septimus eyed her with amusement. "It isn't cold." He knew full well that it was, but there was nothing he loved more than driving Pira insane. 

"You really are crazy. You do know that, don't you?" 

"I don't have the slightest idea what you're referring to," Septimus said, breezing past the maidservant. 

Pira threw up her hands in frustration. _"Ay! _Why do you have to torment me like this?"  
  
"Because it's fun," Septimus replied, a truly mischievous grin highlighting his features. "Besides, why do you always rise to the occasion?" 

From the way she was looking daggers at him, Septimus decided that he'd thoroughly annoyed her enough for one night. One more remark like that and he'd find himself flying through the closed window. Pira Santiago was not a good person to cross, no more than Livia had been. 

"Dinner's ready, by the way," she informed him. 

"All right. I'll be there shortly." 

Pira left the room, and Septimus stood alone in the doorway. 

_Livia..._

The name itself brought back a flood of memories, both happy and painful. She had died when Severus was four, of cancer complicated by pneumonia. Despite all the advantages and advances in healing spells and potions, even the wizarding world had yet to find a cure for cancer. 

After Livia had passed away, he had suddenly found himself lost. His wife was dead. His son had no mother. Septimus had never been so alone in his life.  
  
Severus looked like him. They shared most of the same facial features--the hooked nose and angular cheekbones, for instance. They also shared dark hair--though Septimus' had long been streaked with silver. But Severus had his mother's eyes, and her temper. He acted so much like her at times that Septimus would find himself trying to get away. Just being around Severus had made him miss her all the more. 

_What you did was wrong._

_I know_, Septimus told the voice. Of course it had been wrong. To ignore a child who had lost his mother was the worst possible thing he could have done--though he had not set out to do so. Septimus had always had what others viewed as strange ideas of raising children--he wanted Severus to be self-sufficient. He'd raised his child to make his own decisions. Which the boy had, though not exactly in the way that Septimus would have liked. So of course his manner of raising children had affected Severus--what had he expected? 

Whatever it was, it certainly _hadn't_ been Severus seeking friendship with the Death Eaters. Livia Snape's clan had nearly been exterminated by the Nazis, and her son had entered the service of the Hitler of wizards! The thought made Septimus' blood boil. As far as he was concerned, the boy had gotten off lucky. Septimus had told him to leave the house. Lord only knew what Livia would have done. 

_You know it was your fault. You were never there for him. And then when you found out what he was, you couldn't even bring yourself to turn him in. _He'd heard that Severus was working as a teacher at Hogwarts now, though he had not gone to see if there was truth to the rumor. His business with Severus had been over long ago.__

__

__Septimus sighed and walked back over to the piano-forte. He gently closed the lid over the piano keys.   
  
_Either way,_ he thought as he swept out of the room, _it's too late now._

__

**************************************** 

Fleur Delacour had grown accustomed to being watched. 

When she had attended Beauxbatons, she'd stood out because of her looks. Actually, going anywhere she'd stood out because of her looks. Most of the time she didn't mind--she'd always liked attention, especially from the male population. There was, however, a fine line between being watched and being stalked. 

And the young man with the reddish hair had just crossed it. How long had he been following her, anyway? Since she'd made the stop at Dervish and Banges, perhaps. Every time she'd checked behind her, the boy had moved before she could get a good look at his face. 

She sneaked a glance into the window of Gladrags Wizardwear. In the midst of the crowded street on this Friday afternoon, there he was. 

Her heart momentarily skipped a beat. 

She looked again. He was gone. 

_What---?_

Suddenly a hand came down on her shoulder. Fleur jumped, and spun around, barely registering that she had drawn her wand-- 

"Whoa!" The young man backed up about three feet. "Is that how you normally greet old classmates, Fleur?" 

Fleur's blue eyes widened in surprise. "Anthony McKinnon?! I don't believe it! I have not seen you in--" 

"Two years," Anthony finished with a smile. "I didn't think you'd remember me." 

Remember him? How could she forget? Anthony McKinnon had acted as her tutor in Defense Against the Dark Arts before he graduated. He'd been the one boy Fleur had ever liked that she had not managed to snare completely. She lowered her wand carefully. Since the Triwizard Tournament, she had not been prone to letting her guard down again, even for an instant. 

"I do," Fleur said finally, calming slightly. "I...eet is wonderful to see you again! But...what are you doing in 'Ogsmeade?" 

Was it her imagination, or did Anthony look uncomfortable? "Oh...I'm here on a bit of a holiday," he said at last. 

"Zat sounds nice," Fleur said. When she looked up, Anthony was smiling once more. Had she simply imagined his discomfort? 

"I heard about you being in the Triwizard Tournament," Anthony commented. "You did well, from what I read." 

Fleur smothered a derisive snort. If only he knew. "It was...interesting experience," she replied. "I would rather not speak of it, though."  
  
"That's not the Fleur Delacour I knew," Anthony teased. 

Fleur chuckled. _No, Anthony, it certainly isn't._ But then, she was hardly the same Fleur Delcour. 

"And 'ow long are you planning to stay in Eengland?" she asked. 

"I....I'm not quite sure," Anthony replied, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right. 

"Oh." Fleur wasn't sure what to make of this boy at all. He was like two people--one warm and friendly, and the other anxious and --and frankly, it made her nervous. 

"Because you could visit me," she said, finding her voice at last. "If you 'ave never seen 'Ogwarts, then I could show you. Eet is not as nice as Beauxbatons, but it 'as...a rustic kind of charm."  
  
Anthony smiled suddenly, and Fleur noted that the warm and friendly side was back. "Hogwarts?" 

"I work zere now," she explained. "I am an apprentice to one of zee teachers."  
  
"Oh?" Anthony sounded interested. 

"Yes...Professor Snape." She looked at Anthony expectantly. "What do you think?" 

Anthony's expression changed to one Fleur could not quite read. " You know, I think I would like that," he said at last. Almost to himself, he added. "Very much indeed..." 

Fleur glanced over to the window of the shop on the opposite side, and then back to Anthony. "Would you like to go now? Most of the teachers and students are not zere." 

"What about yours?"  
  
"I do not think 'e is zere," Fleur said after a moment's thought. "Professor Snape 'ad to run an errand for ze 'eadmaster, I believe. Zat is good for us, however. I do not think 'e would react well to a guest." 

"I see. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble," Anthony replied. 

Fleur smiled again, showing all of her teeth. "I am glad you understand. Shall we go, zen?" 

An odd smile crossed Anthony's lips. "Sounds good to me."  


************************************** 

"Ow. Bloody hell," Lupin swore,as he drew his hand back from the offending needle. 

Quickly, he stuck his finger into his mouth. It wouldn't do at all to bleed on the shirt he'd just finished darning. 

_And damning_, he thought, a sardonic smile appearing on his mouth. 

That was when he heard the barking and scratching at the front door of the small cottage he was renting. He folded the newly patched shirt, and set it down on the bed. 

"All right, I'm coming--Snuffles," he called, making his way to the door. 

_One of these days, _Lupin thought, _I really have to get around to asking Sirius where he got the name 'Snuffles'._

When he opened the door, the large black dog pounced on him, knocking him backward. 

"Yeeeowch! Sir--uh, Snuffles! Down!" 

The dog released him obediently, looking up at the werewolf with innocent eyes. 

Lupin laughed. "Nice try." He turned to shut the door. 

When he turned around again, a tall, dark-haired man stood in the dog's place. 

"Hello, Sirius," Lupin said. "Where have you been?" 

"Around town as a lovable stray," Sirius replied with a wry smile. "Buckbeak's very happily installed in the mountain cave we used last time." He sighed, and his stomach made a sound normally heard only from predatory animals. 

Lupin stared. "Uh, Sirius? Would you like something to eat, by any chance?"  
  
Sirius had the grace to blush."Heh...well, I had a couple of rats earlier, but I haven't eaten since...so yes, please."  


Lupin shook his head, his grey eyes sparkling mischievously. "Well, I don't know if I have any rats, though you're welcome to check under the floorboards--" 

"Moony!"  


"All right, all right. Will a sandwich suffice?"  
  
"Yes, Professor." Sirius said obediently. 

Lupin shot Sirius a dry look, and headed into the kitchen. 

"Did you meet with Dumbledore?" Sirius called, as Lupin removed a plate from the cabinet, and took bread from the box. 

"Yes. And Snape, too. He will be making the Wolfsbane Potion for me while I'm here." 

"Good," Sirius replied, entering the kitchen. "Did he give you much trouble?"  
  
"He wasn't exactly inclined to give me a hug, but no, he didn't. I suspect he couldn't, since Dumbledore was right there." Lupin removed a plate from the cabinet, and set to work making the sandwich.  


Sirius paused, uncharacteristically hesitant. Finally he spoke. "I saw Fleur Delacour in town today."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Not many girls look like that, do they?" Sirius asked. "Besides, I saw her picture in the paper last year." 

Lupin smirked. "I don't need to remind you that she's only eighteen, do I?"  
  
"What? I'm recognizing a pretty girl when I see one, that's all," Sirius replied innocently. "Besides, she was chatting it up with some boy more her age. Reminded me of someone...I can't think who at the moment, but it'll come to me." 

Lupin grinned. "Losing your memory already, Sirius?"  
  
"Oh, shut up. Don't you have a sandwich to make?" 

"Do I look like a house-elf to you?" Lupin demanded. He stopped short, remembering his patched and frayed clothes. "Don't answer that." 

Sirius smiled innocently. "Answer what?" 

"Oh, that reminds me, Snape's supposed to come by today," Lupin said as he slid the sandwich plate to Sirius. 

Sirius, who had just taken a bite, promptly began to choke. "Wharght?" he demanded, his words garbled. He swallowed, then glared at Lupin. "Excuse me?" 

"Snape is supposed to come by today," Lupin repeated in a louder tone. "Is your hearing suffering as well?" 

"No."  
  
Lupin hesitated, then gave Sirius a hard look. "Behave."  
  
"Yes, Da," Sirius replied sarcastically. 

"I mean it, Sirius, though I didn't quite mean for it to come out that way. He's coming to discuss the Wolfsbane Potion, that's all," Lupin replied in a gentler tone. He smiled a bit. "This house a rental--I can't very well have you two kill each other. God knows what you'll do to the carpet." 

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Very amusing, Professor. All right, I promise I'll be good."  
  
"Good," Lupin replied, turning to leave the room. Sirius waited until Lupin was out of earshot to speak again. 

"For as long as Snape is." 

************************************ 

Severus Snape was not in a good mood. 

That was not as common an occurrence as some believed. The morning had started off well. Fleur Delacour had been less irritating than usual, and the students were even starting to grasp the concepts he attempted to shove down their throats year after year. 

Then Dumbledore asked him to run an errand. He'd had to go into London after class let out, and then he had to pay a visit to Remus Lupin...and, as likely as not, Sirius Black. 

And as far as he was concerned, that was when the day had gone to hell. 

Having to tolerate Lupin's presence was one thing. Snape did not trust him; he saw no reason to. Lupin, like everyone else in Snape's life, had betrayed him. His situation with Lupin was considerably more complicated than with Sirius Black. If anything, Sirius Black was probably the most honest of all the Marauders. At least with him, Snape had no doubt as to where he stood. 

_Hatred.....it may not be pleasant, but it is simple._ Severus shook himself, looking around at the dirt road leading up to Lupin's shabby cottage. 

Best not to think that. It was that mentality that had gotten him into the whole mess to begin with. It was not a road he cared to revisit. 

In fact, he thought, eyeing the cottage, neither was this. 

Snape walked up the path, and made his way to the door. He hesitated, just briefly-- 

_Walk away, walk away----_

He raised his fist and knocked. 

He heard the sound of a dog barking, and someone scuffling to the door. It opened, and he found himself face to face with Remus Lupin. 

_Oh, joy_, Snape thought. 

"Hello, Severus," Lupin greeted him cordially. "Come inside." 

Lupin held the door, allowing Snape inside. 

It wasn't as bad as it looked from the outside. The furniture, at least, was fairly new, though the rugs were nearly threadbare. He noted that all of the curtains were drawn, and the room was lit only by a few candles. 

"He's here," Lupin called into the kitchen. A moment later, Sirius Black appeared in the doorway. He didn't look any happier to see Snape than Snape was to see him as he passed Snape, crossing the room to take a seat on a nearby sofa. 

"Please, sit down," Lupin offered, but Snape shook his head. 

"I do not want to be here any more than you want me here." Snape said acidly. "Let's just get this over with as little suffering as possible, all right?" 

Lupin merely crossed his arms over his chest, looking...Snape paused, attempting to study the werewolf's expression in the dim light. He couldn't tell. Remus Lupin had the ultimate poker face. 

"As you like," he said at last. "Did you have trouble finding the ingredients for the potion?" 

"I'm a professional, Lupin," Snape replied, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of his voice, as he ignored the derisive snort that issued from Black's direction. "No, I did not. The Apothecary was, however, out of the aconite, so I have it on special order. It will arrive in time for me to make the potion."  
  
Lupin nodded. "I'm glad to hear that. So there won't be any problems?" 

"No. Not if you have the Hungarian Silverweed--that's the last ingredient that I do not have."  
  
"I do," Lupin replied. 

"Very well."  
  
An awkward silence fell. 

_How Mariela and Pira would laugh if they could see me now,_ Snape thought. The situation was so bloody awkward, it wasn't even-- 

Wait. Why was he even thinking of Pira and Mariela? He hadn't seen them in years. The last he'd heard of them was that Pira was still working for his father, and Mariela had married and returned to Spain. He had not heard from her since. 

Pira, however, had tried to maintain contact after he had left his father's home. She had sent him letters at first--but they had petered out to nearly nothing by now, as he never answered any of them. She would have wanted an explanation, and that was one thing that Severus could not--_would _not--give her. 

At last, Sirius broke the silence, along with Snape's train of thought. "I think someone's out there." 

Black had lifted the corner of the curtain slightly, and was now peering out intently. 

Lupin rushed over. "Sirius, get down. It won't do for someone to see you." 

Sirius backed away from the window, and Snape and Lupin both scanned the view from the window. 

"I don't see anyone," Lupin said at last. "Are you sure it was a person, Sirius?"  
  
"It certainly wasn't an animal," Sirius replied. "I can tell the difference." 

"I believe whatever it was is gone now," Lupin replied. "I'd best go have a look, though." 

"I will go with you," Snape said reluctantly. It was, at least, better than remaining in the same room with Sirius Black. 

****************************************** 

Loki Lestrange ducked behind the largest of the seven bushes on the lawn of the cottage. He was nearly to the gate by now. With any luck, he'd get there before-- 

_Damn!_

__

__"Snuffles saw whatever it was in the bushes to the left," Snape was saying. "We should check those first, Lupin."  
  
The other man--Lupin--nodded. 

Snape and Lupin were exiting the house. Their wands were drawn as they began to prod the bush farthest from Lestrange.   
  
Idiots. How could they hope to uncover him? He was Loki, the son of Adele and Lysander Lestrange. Two of the most revered Death Eaters. 

Loki smirked inwardly. His parentage hardly mattered anymore, did it? Malfoy--the man who had practically raised him after his parents' incarceration--always spoke of the day when Azkaban would be broken open, and his parents freed, as something Loki should relish. 

What Malfoy never mentioned was that they were probably insane by now, and most likely useless. It wasn't as though he had many fond memories of his mother or father, at any rate. When one's parents promised the service of their firstborn to the Dark Lord before he was old enough to walk, it did not exactly leave one with the desire to lead the crusade for their freedom. 

_Serve Dumbledore, serve Malfoy, serve the Dark Lord,_ Loki thought in disgust. _Everyone is a servant in their own right, aren't they? _Loki himself looked forward to the day when he would no longer be anyone's servant. And if he had to take someone else's life to do it--well, what of it? 

Lestrange shifted, crouching like panther. He crept soundlessly toward the gate as Snape and Lupin drew closer-- 

_Almost made it--_

_YES!_

Loki slipped out of the garden, and dashed into the nearby grove of trees. He had escaped--barely. 

And not a moment too soon. The small handmirror in the pocket of his robes was humming softly. 

Once he was safely behind a tree, Lestrange withdrew the mirror from his pocket, and held it up to his face. 

The face reflected back to him was not his own, however, but instead that of Lucius Malfoy. 

"Well?" Malfoy demanded. 

"I've been tailing Snape all day," Lestrange replied. "McKinnon hasn't gotten anywhere near him yet. He's in Hogsmeade, though, I checked with the Hog's Head Inn. I followed Snape into London--he went to Diagon Alley for potions ingredients--and then back to this cottage. Someone named Lupin apparently lives here." 

Lucius Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That werewolf? I'm not surprised that Snape is associating with him. But very well, go on." 

"I also searched McKinnon's room earlier today--the files you gave him are there." Loki smiled. "As well as some...notes, very well hidden. Looks as though Snape isn't going to go peacefully." 

Malfoy chuckled. "Dear, dear. I believe I've inspired an artist."  
  
"That depends on McKinnon's ability to pull it off. He's not a professional assassin, as I might point out--" 

"--and have, several times," Malfoy snapped. "I have explained it to you before, Loki. McKinnon is not an assassin. You, however, have experience in this area. Give him a...nudge, in the right direction, if you honestly feel it is needed. But do _not_ interfere directly. The action must be McKinnon's, and McKinnon's alone." 

"Sir--"  
  
"Lestrange, if this plan fails because of _your_ impatience, you _will_ envy Severus Snape in your final moments," Malfoy replied coldly. "Am I clear?" 

Loki hesitated for just a moment. He had no doubt that Malfoy would follow his word to the letter. 

"Yes, sir." 

  
Malfoy's face faded from the mirror's surface, and Loki jammed the mirror roughly into his pocket. 

_Let Malfoy have his games,_ Lestrange thought darkly. _I will play along.....for now._


	5. Part Four

Part Four

_So this is Hogwarts._

Anthony McKinnon followed Fleur into the dark recesses of the dungeon--the last stop on their tour. 

Hogwarts was a fascinating place, Anthony decided. Fleur had been right to say that it wasn't as fancy as Beauxbatons--but it was not completely without attraction. The long corridors with their suits of armor, and their random ghosts floating about fed Anthony's curiosity more than he had previously thought possible.   
  
So this was Hogwarts. This was the place where his parents had gone to school, where they first met... 

...where Severus Snape now taught. 

_How does that happen, anyway? How does a Death Eater become a teacher? They say Albus Dumbledore is an intelligent wizard, but I'm damned if I really believe that. My adoptive parents say that my father had a lot of respect for Dumbledore. Now he's dead. What does that tell you?_

__

__Fleur's voice came very suddenly, piercing through his dark thoughts. 

_"Incendium."_

In an instant, the torches on the walls lit up, allowing Anthony to see the dungeon more fully. Potions bottles of all different shapes and sizes lined the shelves behind the large desk at the front of the room, and several long tables were carefully placed around the room--presumably for the students. 

"It's fascinating," Anthony said, turning in a slow circle as he took in the room. "And this is where you teach?"  


_"Oui--_I mean, yes," Fleur replied. 

"Fascinating," Anthony repeated. 

"I suppose so," Fleur said, eyeing him strangely. He shook his head abruptly, and tried to bring himself back to earth. 

"So, tell me about this person you work for--Snape." Did his voice tremble as he spoke the name? Was he shaking? 

If so, Fleur didn't seem to notice. "Zere is not much to tell, I am afraid. Professor Snape is probably more skilled zen I could hope to be in Potions. I find 'is ways unfathomable, but 'e is a professional on zee whole."  
  
"Does he give you a hard time?" Anthony asked, hoping his words sounded normal. 

Fleur laughed. "If 'e did not, zey would be breaking out zee fur coats in 'ell." 

Anthony laughed, too. "That's the way of it, then?" 

"For ze most part," Fleur replied, and glanced quickly around the room. "Professor Snape's office is off to ze right, but it would not be wise to take you zere." 

"That's fine," Anthony shot out, a little too quickly.__

__  
"You know," Fleur said, "You 'aven't said much about what you 'have been doing all zis time. I know zat is my fault---I sometimes talk too much." 

Anthony laughed. "I know." He paused, then added, "That I haven't said much, not that you talk to much." 

Fleur laughed, too. "I know what you meant. We should probably head upstairs now, though--I can take you back to 'Ogsmeade, if you like." 

"Very well." Anthony responded. "It was nice of you to--"   
  
He stopped short. Fleur frowned, and followed his gaze. 

"P-Professor Snape," she said, sounding as startled as Anthony felt. 

Anthony did a double take. _This is Severus Snape. This is the man who killed my parents. He destroyed my life._ The fire burning inside him the past few weeks burned hotter than ever, and it was all he could do not to curse the man on the spot. 

  
And yet....Anthony did not. He remained, for all outward appearances, as calm and collected as he possibly could, with Snape's cold black eyes bearing down on him. 

_Best to play the game, for now._

"Miss Delacour," Professor Snape replied. "I do not recall giving you permission to bring a guest in my dungeon" --he favored Anthony with a brief, cold look--"unless I am prematurely suffering the ravages of age?"  


"Er--no, sir," Fleur said anxiously. "I just--"  
  
"Forgive us, sir," Anthony said suddenly, stepping forward. "It was my fault, I'm afraid. Fleur was reluctant to bring me to this part of the castle, but I insisted." He smiled ruefully. "I can be dreadfully stubborn." 

Professor Snape stepped forward, closer to Anthony. Snape was a few inches taller, which seemed to make all the difference as his shadow fell on Anthony. Still, he remained standing tall, refusing even to lower his head. 

"Who are you?" Snape demanded. 

_This should be interesting, _Anthony thought. 

Out loud, he replied, "My name is Anthony McKinnon, sir." 

***************************** 

Severus Snape had never been run over by a Muggle motor vehicle, but he imagined that the feeling would probably have been very similar to this boy's presence. 

_Anthony McKinnon._

How could he have not noticed? The boy looked so much like his mother--except for his red hair. Much like Kevin's hair.... 

The boy was observing him closely now, looking almost amused. Was the expression on his face that telling? 

"I see," Snape said, after a few moments' pause. "Well, Mr. McKinnon, I must ask Miss Delacour to escort you out now. Good day."  
  
He turned his glare to Fleur, who nodded quickly. 

"Zis way, Anthony...." 

She headed for the door, but Anthony stepped ahead of her. He held the door as she passed. Giving Snape one final look, he let the door close behind him. 

Severus walked over to his desk, and promptly sank into the chair. 

_Anthony McKinnon..._

The last memory he'd had of the boy was a small, frightened child being led away by Aurors--a little child with messy auburn hair and striped pajamas. Severus was glad that the child had grown up safely. That did not mean, however, that he wanted to see him. 

Snape closed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair. Such a change, between the scared child and the handsome young man that had been in the dungeon only moments before...what years could do.... 

_If only years could erase memories, _he thought darkly. If only he could make himself forget... 

_"Is that all you know, McKinnon?" Lucius Malfoy demanded, his grey eyes flashing._

__

_Kevin raised his head, strands of hair nearly obscuring his eyes. "I have told you all I know," he said weakly. _

__

__"Crucio!" _Malfoy shouted._

_Snape stood further back, next to Travers. He watched as the Auror writhed in pain--he did not scream right away. He was, if nothing else, strong._

__

_"Just making sure," Malfoy said with a cordial smile. "We have to be efficient, you see. As an Auror, you must understand."_

__

_Kevin hung limply in his chains, not responding. Travers left Snape's side, and jerked Kevin's head upward by his chin. His eyes were closed, though he twitched slightly._

__

_"Don't quit on us now," Travers said. He turned sharply, facing Severus. "Snape, why don't you have a go, instead of standing back there like a lump?"_

__

_Snape stepped forward reluctantly. Every step brought him closer to the prisoner....but how he longed to be anywhere else._

__

_"When are they going to kill me?"_

__

_Severus' eyes widened behind his mask. He'd assumed Kevin McKinnon was unconscious. McKinnon had not opened his eyes, but his voice rasped just loudly enough for Snape to hear._

__

_"Soon," Snape responded, his heart in his throat. Why was he doing this? Why was he torturing someone he barely knew?_

__

_When would things start making sense again?_

__

_"I...thought so," Kevin replied, lapsing into a coughing spasm. "Anthony..."  
  
"Who?" Snape asked._

__

_"Anthony...my...son..."  
  
Snape looked over his shoulders. Malfoy was checking the window, while Travers and the others watched him closely. _

__

_"Don't hurt Anthony. Please," Kevin pleaded, the desperation all too clear in his voice. "He...he's only a child. You've already murdered my wife. Please, don't murder my son as well. You can't be as monstrous as that!" His eyes were now wide open._

__

_Snape had heard pleading before, but usually directed at Malfoy or one of the more participating Death Eaters. He did not like it. McKinnon thought of him the same way as he would Malfoy or Travers--and why shouldn't he? With their masks on, they all looked alike._

__

__I'm not like them_, Snape realized. _I can't be monsters like they are. I just can't be.__

__

_Kevin McKinnon pulled himself up as much as his chains allowed. "Please...if you have any trace of humanity in you at all....give me your word that my son will survive this night. We both know they won't let me live."_

__

_Snape found himself wishing he could simply be in another place, to simply not have to deal with this...but here he was, with this doomed man's brown eyes boring into his black ones.   
  
There was nothing he could do to save the father. He could, however, still do something for the son....._

__

_"You have my word," Snape said at last. "Your son will survive this night."_

__

_Kevin nodded, and closed his eyes, for what would be the final time._

__

_"For God's sake, Snape, what are you just standing around for? You're supposed to be torturing him!" Travers snapped. Malfoy strode forward just then, making his way toward the spot where Severus and the Auror stood._

__

_"It matters not," Malfoy said, his voice as smooth as silk. "Step aside now, Severus, if you are too cowardly to do the job."_

__

_Snape obeyed, reluctantly, wishing there was something he could do...anything...but to oppose the Death Eaters one against six would have been suicidal at best.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a small movement...the door opening just a crack..._

__

__The boy, _Snape realized. The child was still there..._

__

_Moving quickly, Snape positioned himself just in front of the door, carefully avoiding the body of Alice McKinnon, and bumped the door shut once more with his shoulder. With any luck, he would be able to convince the others to leave the house without harming the child._

__

__"Avada Kedavra!"_ Lucius Malfoy shouted.._

__

_Then came the flash of green light, and---_

Snape took a deep breath, slowly bringing himself back.__

__

Severus had seen heroes enough in his day, but Kevin McKinnon stood out in his memory. The way the man had pleaded for his son's life like that....would his own father have done the same? 

Snape's mouth twisted grimly. _Probably not. It would have interfered too much with brooding over Mother's death. _

_What was it, McKinnon? Was there something about me that made you think I could be trusted? Why did you plead with me, and not Malfoy? Did you sense my reluctance to participate, or was I just the nearest person? I suppose I shall never know.   
  
But your death served a purpose, in more ways than one. It set me on the path that I am on today.  
  
_For that had been the night he had gone home, and in a moment of panic, confided in his father. 

_I didn't trust anyone, not even then. I was always suspicious of the motives of others. But on that night, I had no one else._

__

_You weren't a fool, Father, whatever else you were. You knew something was amiss. When I came home that night, you were genuinely worried for me. It was the first night I realized you might just be human after all.   
  
It was also the night you turned me out of the house. Life has a funny way of being absolutely horrid, does it not?_

__

__Severus rose from his chair, idly pacing about the room. Anything for a distraction... 

A walk. Yes, that was what he needed. A walk, around the Hogwarts grounds, and maybe even Hogsmeade. He could cool off, and perhaps speak to Dumbledore about it later. A decent solution, for the time being. 

_Let's just hope I don't run into Lupin or Black on the way. That would really put a perfect end to a perfect day, would it not?_

_***********************************_

__

__"Doctor! Dr. Snape!" 

Septimus Snape paused in the hospital corridor as the young nurse swiftly covered the distance between them. She braced one hand against the wall, attempting to catch her breath. 

"What do you have for me, Dinah?" he asked, smiling. 

Nurse Dinah Brinton was barely twenty-two, but her wide eyes and childlike face made her look much younger. That, combined with her excitable demeanor, lended greatly to Septimus' amusement most of the time. 

"Sir," she said as she caught her breath, "There's a patient in room 306 waiting for you, he's just arrived." She handed him the clipboard. "It's all here."  
  
Septimus read carefully. "Oh, my," he said, and tried to hide his growing smile behind a mask of cool effieciency--rather unsuccessfully. "That _does_ sound painful. Poor Minister Fudge. How did this happen?" 

Nurse Brinton cleared her throat. "I believe the Minister's dog was misbehaving, and his wife tried to give it a...well, _zap_ is how she put it...and the dog moved, and--Dr. Snape! Are you all right?" 

Septimus was leaning against the wall, bringing the clipboard up to his face to hide his laughter. "I...see," he choked out. "I'd best tend to that right...away." 

The young nurse scrutinized him. "Sir, you're laughing!" 

Her indignation only fueled his amusement. "I know. Don't worry, Dinah, I won't be laughing when I tend to the Minister." 

Nurse Brinton's expression relaxed, just a little. "His wife was pretty amused, too."  
  
"I don't wonder that she was," Septimus replied. "Don't worry. Healers of Magical Injuries see worse than this. The worst he'll suffer is momentary pain and about a week's worth of embarrassment."  
  
"Well, I told him he'd be getting one of our best healers," Nurse Brinton said, blushing slightly. 

Septimus rolled his eyes. "Only, more like. Rather annoying that there are only three of us on duty today. And it will be just me and Dr. Carstairs when Dr. Reilly leaves. Ah, well--at least things are slow today." 

"Oh, sir, don't say that!" Nurse Brinton cried. 

"Why ever not?" Dr. Snape asked practically. 

"It's a jinx!" Dinah replied. 

"Oh, come now--" 

"I mean it, Doctor. Last night Leslie Hartford said the same thing, and two hours later, what do you think happened? An accident at Zonko's with four of its employees, then two children nearly being mauled by a--"  
  
Septimus sighed. He'd forgotten just how superstitious Nurse Brinton was. "I'd best be on my way now, Dinah. It won't do to keep Mr. Fudge waiting any longer."  
  
"See, sir, I've got a chill now! That means a jinx for sure!"  
  
Dr. Snape shook his head, and began walking in the opposite direction, toward Fudge's room. 

For some reason, he no longer felt like laughing. 

*********************************** 

Loki scanned the crowd in the Three Broomsticks. So far, it seemed to be mainly rowdy wizards and a few overly made-up witches populating the bar that night. 

"Can I get you something, deario?" 

He looked up to see a pretty older woman standing next to his table. The landlady, he thought, if he'd heard correctly.  
  
"Rum and coke'll do for me."  
  
"You look awfully young for that," Madam Rosmerta replied. 

Loki smirked. "I'm no schoolboy, love." 

The lady's eyebrows arched. "I noticed." 

She turned away from him to fetch the drink, and Lestrange leaned back casually in his chair. 

_Why does so much of careful planning involve _waiting_?_ he thought resentfully, tapping on the tabletop. _Lucius should have just killed Snape himself when he had the chance. _

In Loki's opinion, there was nothing wrong with a little savage brutality every now and then. To really cut loose on someone, to let the savage beast out--_that_ was truly being alive. Even his parents had understood that. Unfortunately, Lucius Malfoy didn't. 

Rosmerta bustled back, interrupting his train of thought, and placed the drink in front of him. He nodded his thanks, and raised the drink to his lips. 

Then he looked up--and nearly choked. 

_Oh, damn it._

__

__ *********************************** 

Anthony McKinnon let the door to the Three Broomsticks close behind him with a snap. He'd have enough time for an early dinner, he decided. And then perhaps-- 

_Wait._ Was that-- 

"Lestrange?" Anthony asked, a bit uncertainly. 

The dark-haired young man raised his blue-green eyes to meet Anthony's. "McKinnon."  
  
"What are you doing here?" Anthony demanded. 

  
Loki snorted. "Lovely way to greet a bloke, McKinnon. They teach you those manners in France?" 

"That, and how to kiss," Anthony replied wryly. "Let's just say I'd rather not practice the latter on you."  
  
"To answer your question, I had errands here and decided to stop for a drink on my way back," Loki said, in a smooth tone to rival Malfoy's. 

"Oh." Anthony looked momentarily abashed. He drew up a chair from a nearby table, and sat down across from Lestrange. 

"I saw him today."  
  
Loki gave him a curious look. "Saw who?" 

"Snape."  


A slow smile spread over Lestrange's features. "And?" 

"And what?" McKinnon asked blankly. 

"How many pieces did you blast him into?" Loki asked. "Or maybe you didn't bother with pieces--you just blasted him to dust. Right?"  
  
"No," Anthony replied, giving Lestrange an odd look.   
  
"Well, what then?" Loki asked, taking a swig of his drink.  
  
"Nothing." 

Loki stared, his brow arched in mild disappointment. "Nothing. He's still alive? In one piece?"  
  
"More or less," Anthony responded. "Though I don't imagine he was pleased to see me. The look on his face was priceless." _Just like the look on his face will be when I have my revenge._

"Mm. Interesting," Lestrange replied, in a tone that implied the opposite. "But what are you going to _do_? This is the man that killed your family, right? What are you waiting for?"  
  
"It's too soon to make a move," Anthony shot back. "I don't even have a place where--"  
  
"I can find you a place, but that's not the point," Lestrange said. "You don't have to go all out on the first try, you know. Give him a warning, if you like." 

"Why would I want to put him on his guard?" Anthony demanded. 

Loki shrugged. "Mess with his head a bit. You and Malfoy seem to like that sort of thing. Me, on the other hand--" he took a broad swing and drained the last of his drink, "I like just getting down to it. I mean, if he'd murdered _my_ family, I'd--" 

"Shut up," Anthony snapped. "I don't need you to remind me why I'm here." 

"Fine, fine, have it your own way," Lestrange replied. "All I'm saying is, it can't hurt to get in a little practice. Y'know?" 

"Practice," Anthony repeated, his eyes suddenly fixed on a spot above Loki's head. _Speak of the devil..._

Snape passed the front window of the restaurant, his eyes flickering in Anthony's direction for a brief moment. 

Loki turned casually, following the other man's gaze. He turned back to Anthony, his smile reminding McKinnon more than ever of a wild animal. 

"Have fun," he said, his smile growing wider.  


********************************** 

There was really nothing like a walk to clear one's mind, Snape mused. Even as he passed one of the many establishments in Hogsmeade, he felt a little calmer. 

McKinnon being in town didn't necessarily mean anything. For all Severus knew, the boy had come to see Fleur. 

_And yet..._

It bothered him. So many things happening at once made it difficult for one to maintain control over his surroundings. And Severus Snape did not care at all for the idea of relinquishing control. 

_Lupin, Black and McKinnon. All at once. I must have been a horrible person in my last life._

  
Though, come to think of it, he wasn't exactly a saint in this life, either. 

He was drawn further and further from the main part of town. Perhaps if he walked far enough, he could leave it all behind. 

_Perhaps I believed that once--but no longer. You cannot run from what you are. I know that now._

Severus finally stopped just outside the gates of the cemetery. 

It wasn't very large, he noted, passing through the iron gates. A sardonic smile appeared on his mouth. _But then, I don't suppose there are many complaints._

It was strange that he should feel so peaceful in a graveyard. Most people, Muggle or otherwise, might find such a thing morbid. But there it was. 

The sun had nearly dipped halfway below the horizon now. 

Snape sighed. He should go back, he realized. As it was, Dumbledore would be wondering why he was not at dinner. 

He closed his eyes briefly. Yet another person who believed in him against all common sense. 

_Snap._

Snape's eyes opened, and he turned sharply. 

_What was that?_

**************************** 

Anthony had thought he was prepared. Seeing Severus Snape the first time had been difficult, it was true. 

But Fleur had been there. It hadn't been possible for him to take any sort of action at that point. 

Now, however... 

Rage in the form of adrenaline raced through his veins, jerking him into a state of hyperawareness. The memories of that horrible night came rushing back. _Mother on the floor, Father in chains--Death Eaters all around, the Dark Mark above my house---_

And then there had been later. He had spent the rest of the night at the Ministry headquarters--there had been no other place for him. And those three years in the orphanage--of not knowing if he would ever belong anywhere again-- 

_All because of one man._

Anthony's jaw tightened, twisting his normally handsome features beyond recognition. 

_This man._

A warning, Loki had said. Very well, then. A warning it would be. 

_Snap._

Anthony swore inwardly as his foot connected with a fragile twig. _Damn it!_

Snape knew someone was out there. Anthony could tell, as he watched from his cover behind the thick bush. The dark-haired man was looking over his shoulder as he drew his wand. 

Thinking quickly, Anthony seized a small pebble from the ground, and threw it against the iron gate. 

Snape turned toward the noise. 

Anthony leaped out from his hiding place, wand drawn. 

_"Obscurus Incendio!"_

__

__ **************************** 

The words barely registered in Severus Snape's mind as he turned, hoping to ward off the spell-- 

But it was too late. 

The explosion knocked him off his feet, sending him flying through the air like a rag doll. 

_Who--_

He felt the breath leave his body as his back connected with a nearby headstone. The heat of the blast stole the oxygen, making it impossible to breathe, even if he had been able to before. 

The last thing he was aware of before he lost consciousness was the dark outline of a man's figure silhouetted against the blinding yellow flames. 


	6. Part Five

Part Five

"Sir!"  
  
Dr. Snape looked up sharply as the young orderly came rushing into the emergency room. 

"What is it, Hobson?" 

"We've got a man here, Anglo, mid to late thirties, apparently caught in some kind of magical explosion. He's unconscious--burns, no sign of broken bones--" 

"All right, get him in here," Septimus ordered. "Now!" 

No sooner were the words out his mouth than Dr. Carstairs and another orderly rushed in, pushing a stretcher ahead of them. A dark-haired man, his face obscured by dark hair and burned skin, lay sprawled on it. 

"How bad?" Septimus demanded. 

"Can't say right now, that was one hell of a hex. He's lucky he's still breathing," Carstairs replied, pushing his pince-nez up the bridge of his nose. 

Dr. Snape turned to the second orderly. "Get the Burn Salve, and the Hex-Effects Potion. Be quick."  
  
The orderly ran to fetch the supplies. Dr. Snape leaned forward, moving a shock of the unconscious man's hair out of his eyes, trying to better assess the damage. 

_No, it can't be!_ Burns or no burns, he would have recognized that face anywhere. 

_Severus..._

__

__"Snape, what are you doing?" Carstairs demanded as the orderly placed the supplies next to him. The other doctor had already taken a swab of cotton and dipped it into the salve, running it over Severus' skin. 

_Good God, boy, what happened to you?_  
  
Septimus shook himself, and rolled up his sleeves, picking up another swab. Gritting his teeth, he set to work. 

He couldn't afford to let emotion get in the way now. 

************************************** 

Mariela surveyed the damage as she strode over to the site. There were broken headstones, and even the iron of the gates was scorched. Several officers, most of them Magical Forensic experts (or 'hexperts', as they were referred to by other Ministry workers) were gathered around, poking through the debris. 

"Officer Chavez?" 

She turned to face Alexander Bertram, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "Sir," she replied. "I responded to the call as soon as I could. Fletcher was making trouble down at the Ministry headquarters again."  
  
Bertram nodded in his usual curt, businesslike way. "Not much to see, unfortunately. The hexperts are gathering the debris to figure out what the hell happened here." 

"I heard someone was hurt," Mariela said, stepping through the remains of the gates as she followed her superior. 

"Yeah--a wizard. He hasn't been identified yet, but the mediwizards took him to St. Mungo's. Maybe he'll be able to tell us what happened." 

"Let's hope so," Mariela replied. 

"In the meantime," Bertram continued, "I want you to interview the locals. Find out if anyone saw anything. We've got a whole crowd of gawkers," he jerked a thumb with obvious scorn in the direction of several wizards and witches avidly watching the action, "And my guess is maybe three of them actually saw anything. Find out what you can from the useful ones and get rid of the rest."  


"Yes, sir," Mariela responded, and jogged off toward the onlookers. 

It took roughly twenty minutes to determine that Bertram had been wrong. None of the onlookers had seen anything. 

"Well, it's hard to recall," one elderly witch remarked, "I mean, you're sitting down to your tea and you just don't expect to hear an explosion. Why, it reminds me of when I was a girl during the London blitz-" 

Mariela restrained herself from gnawing off her own wrist as she listened to the witch's story. No matter how useless a piece of information might seem at the time, it could always prove to be important later. She simply jotted down notes and continued to ask questions. 

With any luck, she'd find something useful. 

****************************** 

Remus Lupin almost tripped over Sirius, as he stopped dead in the middle of the road. 

"What's wrong, boy?" Remus asked, righting himself and the grocery 

bag. This would happen while I'm carrying groceries, he thought in mild disgust. 

Snuffles sniffed the air, and barked. 

Remus sighed. "This isn't that Muggle show with the collie, Snuffles. You'll have to be clearer than that." 

Snuffles ran ahead, and Remus had no choice but to follow. 

Then he realized what Snuffles had been sniffing. There was smoke in the air, wafting from the direction of the cemetery. 

"Not your general ghostly activity," he remarked aloud, and continued walking in the direction of the cemetery. 

When he arrived, the first thing he saw was a petite, harried-looking witch interviewing a wizard. Judging by her uniform and severe hairstyle, she was probably an officer of some kind. He noted that a group of others were gathering evidence from the debris. 

Even from where he stood, Remus could see the extent of the damage. Part of the low wall had been blasted apart, and through the now-thin haze of smoke, he saw the cracked remains of headstones, and scorch marks on nearly everything else. 

Looks almost as though a dragon had been here, he thought. 

"Excuse me, Officer," he said, as the wizard left the woman's side. "What happened here?"  
  
"So far, we believe it's an explosion as a result of some kind of magical hex," the witch replied. "We're still trying to locate the perpetrator and determine exactly what spell was used. One wizard was hurt. Did you see anything?" 

Remus shook his head. "I'm sorry, but no, I didn't. Is he all right?" 

The witch's eyes narrowed. "You're not a reporter, are you?" 

"No," Remus replied. 

"Good. You wouldn't believe the trouble they caused--hey!" 

"Snuffles!" Remus exclaimed, as the Animagus sniffed at the witch's satchel. To his surprise, the witch was laughing. 

"Friendly little _perro_," she said, bending down to pet him. Snuffles licked her hands and face. 

"Yes, he is," Remus said, smiling a bit himself. "Sometimes a little too much so." Sirius always had liked playing up to the pretty women. 

  
"What's his name?" the witch asked. 

"Snuffles," Remus responded. 

The witch smiled. _"Hola_, Snuffles. I'm Mariela." She straightened up, and pulled a small piece of paper out of her pocket. "If you remember anything, or talk to anyone who does, tell them to contact me. All the information's on the card." 

"Thank you, Officer--" he looked at the name on the card "--Chavez." 

Chavez nodded. "Don't mention it." She glanced over at a new crowd of people. "Time to get rid of more gawkers. This is worse than a Muggle traffic accident," she muttered, and walked off to deal with them. 

Remus was about to walk off himself, when he passed two other officers, talking in earnest a few feet away. 

"We've got an ID on the wizard injured in the blast. His name's Snape--Severus Snape. He's a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the younger of the two officers said. 

The other--probably his superior--nodded. Snuffles bounded over to Lupin, but stopped short at the young officer's words. 

"Good. How badly off is he?"  
  
"Still unconscious. The doctors are trying to stabilize him. He's lucky he didn't die outright." 

Lucky? Not quite the word I would use, Lupin thought, glancing back at the ravaged cemetery. 

"I don't like this," the superior remarked slowly. 

"Sir?" 

"There's a lot of rage in this attack," the older wizard replied. "Rage, and cold calculation. It's a bad combination. I don't like it." 

The two officers walked back in the direction of the cemetery. 

"Neither do I," Remus said, almost to himself. "Neither do I." 

He glanced down at Sirius. "Come on, Snuffles. "We're heading up to Hogwarts right away." 

*********************************** 

Dr. Snape leaned against the wall just outside of the emergency room. Other mediwizards and nurses bustled about the corridor, all lost in Septimus Snape's mind in a blur of color and sound. 

Severus. It was Severus. 

_The man on the stretcher--my son. He could have died._

Septimus had washed his hands thoroughly, but he could still feel the cold salve, even through the gloves he had worn in the emergency room. He could still hear Severus rasping, struggling to breathe. It had been the only clue he was still even alive. 

It had taken hours, but he, Dr. Carstairs, and the two orderlies had finally managed to stabilize him. Severus had been taken out of intensive care. He would live. 

_I've been afraid before_, Dr. Snape thought. _But even when I learned of Severus' betrayal--even when I thought he might kill me to silence me, I still wasn't afraid then as I am now._

Someone had attacked Severus, that much was obvious. And Septimus, no matter how angry he was with his son, did not like that idea one bit. 

_What am I going to do?_

He could try talking to Severus--but no. That was out of the question. He couldn't even begin to imagine what he would say. 

_Hello, son. I know I haven't spoken to you in fifteen years and we didn't get along well even before that and you might be a Dark Wizard, but why did someone try to hex you into next week?_

Even if they did speak, Septimus mused, it would more than likely turn into an argument. That had always been the way. 

He closed his eyes, letting his face sink into his hands. 

_Livia, where are you when I need you? You always seemed to know what to do._

Without really even being aware of it, Septimus walked down the hall, joining the stream of colors and noise. He let his feet go, as they him further down the corridor, and to the left. 

He thought he heard a woman calling to him--perhaps it was Dinah Brinton again. He paid it little attention as he continued on his way. 

At last he stopped in front of a door--Severus' door. He hesitated, but pushed the door open as silently as possible. 

The room was dark, but the thin beam of light cut a clear path inside. Septimus watched as his son slept fitfully, as though whatever had attacked him was still very fresh in his mind. 

Many years ago, when Severus was still a child, Septimus had usually worked late. He had always stopped by his son's room before going to bed himself. Watching the young boy sleep....the young boy who would become as much a stranger to him as the man now lying in the hospital bed. 

_I'm sorry, Severus. I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you betray everything I'd ever tried to teach you. I don't understand why you did it. But I have kept my silence, for better or for worse. I just wish I knew which one it was._

Severus stirred, and Dr. Snape closed the door quickly. 

************************** 

_Fire......_

__

_He's laughing....even over the roar of the flames, I can hear his laughter._

__

_Master....my Lord, is that you?_

__

_No....someone else. Some faceless entity I know nothing of._

__

_No! Get away from me! Go!_

__

_Dark haze...voices...male voices..._

__

_A very familiar voice....I've heard it before...he's shouting orders..._

__

_"We're losing him...come on now, boy!"_

__

_The dark haze sweeps over me again....where am I?_

__

_Father?_

Severus blinked, trying to bring his surroundings into focus. A bedroom of some kind--no, not quite. There was a woman in a nurse's uniform bending over his bed, checking his pulse. Sunlight streamed through the small window on his left. 

"Where am I?" he croaked. 

"St. Mungo's," the nurse replied calmly. "You've been here since about seven o'clock last night. I'm Nurse Hartford, by the way."  
  
"How did I get here?" 

"The Magical Law Officers found you when they were called in to investigate the explosion at the graveyard," the nurse replied in the same calm tone as before. "They had you brought here. Oh, that reminds me--they'll want a statement from you later on." 

In a flash, the events replayed in Snape's mind. The graveyard, the spell, the fire....and the laughter. 

_I will find out who you are,_ Severus thought, as he set his teeth. _Believe me, I will find out. _

Severus was careful, as a general rule. He couldn't afford not to be. But one man--if indeed it was just one man--had caught him off his guard. He would not let that happen again. There were many who wanted him dead--but who wanted him dead badly enough to try something so bold? 

His thoughts were interrupted as the young nurse continued. "Professor Dumbledore was here late last night. He brought you those." She pointed to a set of neatly folded robes and a dressing gown on the small table on the other side of the room. "He'll send someone to get you later on today." 

"I see," Snape replied. 

"You were lucky. If they hadn't found you when they did and put out that fire, you'd still be in intensive care," the nurse continued. "If not dead. That's what the doctors attending you said, anyway. Dr. Carstairs and Dr. Snape." 

Severus sat bolt upright. "Who?  
  
"Dr. Carstairs and Dr. Snape," Nurse Hartford repeated. 

_The voice,_ Snape thought. He had thought he heard his father's voice...perhaps it had not been a dream after all. 

_Oh, no. No.  
  
_"You two are related, aren't you?" the nurse asked pleasantly, rearranging the sheets. 

Something in Severus snapped. "Leave," he snarled. "Get out of here _now."_

The nurse looked taken aback. "I'll do just that in a moment, sir," she replied. "But one of the doctors will check in on you later."  
  
"And then I can leave?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Nurse Hartford replied, rising from the chair by Snape's bed. She walked out of the room, shutting the door gently behind her. 

Snape threw the covers aside, and stood up. 

It wasn't as good an idea as he had previously thought. Dots of many different colors danced before his eyes, and he quickly sank down on the edge of the bed.  
  
After a few moments, he managed to stumble over to the table and pull on the dressing gown over his detestable hospital gown. _Bright yellow never was a good color on me,_ he thought, collapsing on a chair near the window. _I look like a blasted Hufflepuff Quidditch fan!_

_At least it isn't Gryffindor red_. 

All he had to do was avoid his father if he saw him. That was all there was to it. Maybe his father would even try to avoid _him_. That would work out best for both of them. Even if he was on speaking terms with his father, this was hardly an ideal time for a heart-to-heart. Not that Severus had ever participated in one of those. 

In truth, he reflected, it was probably best to keep himself from getting close to anyone. He had Dumbledore as a friend. That was all he needed. If someone was trying to kill him, distance was probably the wisest option. He had no doubts about his own ability to protect himself--but he could not, _would_ not, answer for the safety of anyone else. 

_So safety is measured by distance from me, is it?_ Severus chuckled sardonically. 

If that was the case, his father was the safest wizard in England. 

********************************* 

__

_"Septimus?" _

__

_As clear as day, he could hear the woman's richly accented voice. The sound was still sweet and familiar to him. He would have recognized it anywhere._

__

_But there was no one else visible on this bleak, grey landscape. It was, upon closer inspection, actually the grounds of his manor--but how desolate it looked._

__

_"Livia! Livia!" he called into the pearl-white sky. Where was she? Why couldn't he see her?_

__

_"Septimus!" Now she was screaming._

__

_"I'm coming!" He had no idea where she was, but he would find her. He would always find her. The scream came again, this time from just beyond the garden wall._

__

_He took off in a run, and scaled the wall. It seemed to grow taller and more slippery the harder he tried to climb it. "Livia! Livia, I'm coming!" he shouted, not knowing whether she could even hear him or not._

__

_The cold grey stone cut into his hands, but he paid it no attention. Gritting his teeth, he finally reached the top of the wall--and promptly tumbled down to the other side. _

__

_He looked up sharply. He was no longer outside, but in the drawing room of the manor. It was lit now only by a roaring fire, and the windows outside showed a dark night sky._

__

_"Shh!"  
  
"Who's there?" Septimus demanded, looking around. "Livia?"_

__

_At last he saw her. She stood up from her chair facing the fireplace, and turned to him, the shimmering material of her pale gown reflecting the fire. _

__

_She looked exactly as he remembered, with her dark Slavic complexion, her waist-length, straight black hair....her black eyes..._

__

_Like Severus' black eyes..._

__

_"You'll wake him," Livia informed him. "Hush!"_

__

_"Who?"_

__

_Livia simply pointed to the hearth rug. Septimus did a double take. Severus was lying face down on the shaggy material. At first, Septimus thought he was simply asleep. _

__

_No--something was terribly wrong..._

__

_A dark stain, black in the firelight, was now spreading from the area around his throat. Septimus rushed past his wife, and turned his son's motionless form over. A horrible, ragged gash ran across his throat. Septimus looked down, and saw that his hands and sleeves were now stained with his son's blood._

__

_"No!" Desperately, Septimus shook Severus' shoulders. "Please, son! Please, wake up!"   
  
"You killed him!" Livia screamed, turning on him. "You murdered our son!"_

__

_"No! Livia, no!" Septimus cried. "Please believe me!"_

__

_"Murderer!" In his wife's eyes, the beautiful onyx eyes he had adored, he saw only hatred. Her hatred cut deeper than any knife ever could._

__

_"No! No, Livia! Please!"_

__

_And then the fire from the hearth raged, surrounding Severus, surrounding Septimus himself. Livia's screaming accusations could still be heard. Septimus simply held Severus' lifeless form closer, as the flames licked the hem of his robes---_

__

Dr. Snape flew through the corridor. At least, that was what it felt like--he didn't even think his feet were touching the ground. He needed coffee. A shower. Anything to make himself forget... 

_Why did I have to go and doze off in the break room?_ He'd thought he'd gotten enough sleep the night before. He had left the hospital at about eleven, and had gone to bed at midnight. It had been a restless night, and when he finally had managed to fall asleep, he had done nothing but dream incoherent, disturbing nightmares that left him in a cold sweat. He thought he'd left them behind. 

Apparently, they hadn't left him. 

He had to see Severus. He was probably still asleep. Septimus could go and see his son, just to make sure. Perhaps that would do something about his pounding heart, now lodged firmly in his throat. 

And then he could be on his way. 

Septimus stopped in front of the door. Yes, this was Severus' room. Was it only last night that he had been here?  
  
His hand hesitated briefly on the doorknob. Drawing in a deep breath, he pushed it open. The first thing Dr. Snape saw was that Severus' bed was now empty. The second thing he noticed was the tall, lanky man that stood in front of the window, clad in a dark grey dressing gown. Before Septimus had a chance to close the door, the man had turned around. 

At that moment, Septimus Snape's heart leapt clear out of his throat and somewhere into the stratosphere. 

********************************* 

Severus turned warily toward the open door. "Who is it? If it's you again, Nurse, I--" 

He stopped short. 

It wasn't the nurse at all, but a man--a doctor, as indicated by his uniform, and the blue band tied about his forehead as a mark of his position. The man was tall and lanky, like him. He had the same large hooked nose and angular features, though his were lined with age. His long black hair was shot through with strands of silver-grey, and his eyes were a deep shade of slate blue. 

_Father._

__

__A thousand emotions swept through Severus at once, each fighting for their turn. His black eyes narrowed, as hot anger rose in his throat and won the battle. Anger--the winner and reigning champion. 

"Well."   
  
It was a tone he used with particularly troublesome students, or people he truly did not care for. Like Sirius Black, or Remus Lupin. 

"To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" Severus demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. "The last I heard, I was no longer your son, and you no longer my father." 

His father raised his eyes to meet Severus' own. "I--wanted to see if you were all right," he replied quietly. 

"Oh, yes," Severus sneered. "Yes, I am, as you put it, _all right._ Don't think I owe you anything, _Doctor._ I know that you helped to save me--but it was part of your job. You couldn't let me die."  
  
"You're right," Septimus replied evenly, his expression unreadable. "I couldn't." 

"No, _that_ wouldn't have helped your respectable image, would it?" Severus snapped. 

Septimus lowered his eyes, his back to the doorjamb. Severus had managed a blow to his father's armor, and he continued his battle march. 

"Why are you here?" Severus demanded. "You've shown no interest in me for fifteen years. You have no right to be here now."  
  
"Oh, yes I do," Septimus said at last as he looked up, his eyes flashing. "As a parent--perhaps not, since I did relinquish that, as you say. But as a doctor, I _do_ have the right." 

"No. No, you don't," Severus replied, his fiery anger giving way to cold fury. "Doctor or not, you disowned me. You don't want to see me, and I have no earthly desire to see you. I am a disgrace to the family, you said so yourself. Don't you remember? Back in the days when I still called you 'Father'?" 

"Severus--"  
  
"Stop." Severus held up one hand. "Just get out. You are the last person that I want to see right now. Get _out_!"   
  
Septimus looked as though he wanted to argue--but then he simply lowered his head, and pulled the door shut behind him without a word. 

Severus sank into the nearby chair, pressing his fingers to his temples. _I don't need this,_ he thought. _I don't need this, not now...I hate you, Father! Why are you doing this to me? Why do you pretend you care? I know you don't. You can't possibly. You feared me that night, when I told you what I really was. You thought I would kill you to protect my secret.   
_

_I didn't. I could have--I'd seen it done often enough. But I had no desire to. And you did not turn me in to the authorities, as you certainly could have. Probably to protect your precious family honor. I can't allow myself to think it was because you loved me. How could you have loved me, Father, and still disowned me?_

__

__Distantly, he recalled the question he had asked himself on the night of the McKinnons' murder. 

_When would things start making sense again?_

__

*************************** 

"All traces of magic had been wiped from the scene," Bertram read from the report on his desk, running his hands through his thinning white hair. "The perpetrator literally vanished without a trace. In a puff of smoke, you might say."  
  
Mariela blinked. "That's impossible. Spells like that don't exist!" She glanced around the Magical Law Enforcement chief's office, her eyes lingering on the window just above his head. 

"I'm aware of _that,_ Chavez," he pointed out dryly. "My guess is that more than one person was involved in this. My theory is that someone did the dirty work, and someone else cleaned up the mess before we got there." 

"In that amount of time? He or she wouldn't have had more than ten or fifteen minutes, and cleanup spells take longer than that to--" 

"Not necessarily," Bertram interrupted. "That would depend entirely on the witch or wizard. If it's an expert we're dealing with--and I think it is--they could do it in that amount of time, and still get away without being noticed."  


Mariela frowned. "How--oh. The crowd."  
  
"Exactly. Who would notice an extra person in that mob?" Bertram asked. 

"In any case," he sighed, a dropped the paper onto the clutter of his desk, "I've just received an order to call off the investigation."  
  
_"What?!"_ Mariela cried. "From who?" 

"Someone very high up," Bertram replied dourly. "Those doltish bureaucrats won't breathe a word. But Cornelius Fudge himself visited me this morning and told me on no uncertain terms what my instructions were."  
  
"That's ridiculous! Why would he do something like that?" Mariela dug her fingernails into the back of the chair placed in front of Bertram's desk. 

Bertram threw her a pitying glance. "I keep forgetting you're new around here," he said. "This is how our wonderful English Ministry works, my dear lady. My guess would be that someone very highly placed is involved. That, or someone very highly placed instructed Fudge to get the investigation called off."  
  
"That's ridiculous!" Mariela said again. 

"Of course it is. It's _politics,_" Bertram replied scathingly. "I'm just telling you because I know you were heading out today to talk to the victim."  
  
"I'm still going to," Mariela replied stubbornly. 

"You can't," the older officer informed her. "No more investigation, remember? Get a handle on that Spaniard's temper of yours, Chavez. I don't like it any more than you do, but orders are orders. The attack on Severus Snape is none of your concern."  
  
_Oh, yes it is,_ Mariela thought, though she had to clench her teeth to keep from saying so. Ever since she had learned that he was the victim of the attack, she'd been determined to speak with him. 

_Alexander doesn't know. He doesn't know my mother worked for Severus' father, he doesn't know about my connection with that family at all._ Telling him would do little good. It would just be more of a reason to insist that she not be involved. 

Taking a deep breath, Mariela managed to calm down. She would talk to Severus, all right--but not as an officer. No...as one friend to another... 

She _would_ get to the bottom of this. With or without the Ministry's permission. She could not let a calculating lunatic roam the streets, attacking people--especially not when they were her former friends. 

She left Bertram's office with a slight smile. _I _will_ find out what's going on here, _she vowed. 

_And I _will_ find out why._

*************************** 

_We didn't start the fire...we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it..._

Anthony leaned back, humming the old Muggle song under his breath as he lay flat on his back in bed. 

It was easier than he'd thought. Loki Lestrange had been right to say that he needed the practice--though he was no stranger to the Dark Arts. Still, he never thought he'd be inflicting them on others.... 

But Snape was different. He was a murderer, one that the law could not touch. 

_What if I'm becoming like him? What if I'm no more than a murderer, after all is said and done?_ Anthony thought, staring up at the ceiling. 

_You aren't. Your motive is justice, remember that. His is--oh, who knows? Petty hatred and God knows what else. You can't be expected to understand the mind of a Death Eater._

__

_When will things start making sense again? I don't know how much longer I can take all this...damn you, Snape! _

__

_Am I any better than he is?_

__

_Yes...no....I don't know._

_Dad, if you can hear me, help me now. I need something. A sign--anything!_

__

__A knock sounded at his door. Anthony blinked once, twice--yes, the knock was coming from _his_ door. He got up, not bothering to reach for a dressing gown--he hadn't changed out of his clothes from the night before.   
  
He crossed the small hotel room, and opened the door. He smiled. 

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy." 

*************************** 

Dr. Reilly finished checking Snape's heartbeat at last. "Well," the elderly doctor said. "It looks as though you're ready to leave." 

_More so than you could guess,_ Severus thought. 

The doctor marked the piece of paper on his clipboard, and glanced up. "Well, your heart rate is normal, and the burns have healed in a remarkably short time. Everything seems fine. If you experience any discomfort, though, I understand you have a very skilled physician at Hogwarts. Poppy Pomfrey is one of the best."  
  
Snape nodded impatiently. "Yes, I know."  
  
"Good. Headmaster Dumbledore sent someone to escort you back to the school," Dr. Reilly informed him. 

"Who?" Snape asked.  
  
"A Mr. Lupin."   
  
_Of course,_ Snape thought bitterly. _Now my suffering is complete. In forty-eight hours I was nearly killed, saw my father, and now must endure Lupin again. Wonderful._   


"If you'll follow me, Professor Snape?" Dr. Reilly asked, tucking his clipboard under his arm as he stood. 

Severus followed the doctor out of the room, grateful at least to be getting out of the hospital. There wouldn't be much danger of running into his father back at Hogwarts. 

_Thank whatever gods or goddesses there may be for that!_

__

******************************* 

Lupin tapped his fingernails on the front desk in the reception area of St. Mungo's Hospital. All around him, doctors and nurses were bustling about, as patients and their families milled around in the waiting area. 

He turned back to the desk, and nearly did a double take at the profile of the man now standing beside him, facing the opposite side. "Sev--" he stopped short, studying the man's face as he turned to look at him. 

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I thought you were someone else." There was a definite resemblence, but this man was not Severus Snape. For one thing, he was about thirty years older, and for another, he was wearing a doctor's uniform. 

"That's been happening to me quite a lot today," the doctor replied, his blue-grey eyes twinkling. 

"Mr. Lupin?" the receptionist asked. "Professor Snape is here." 

Lupin glanced up, and saw Severus heading in his direction, walking beside an elderly doctor. He looked back to the other doctor. "Well, it was nice--" 

He stopped again. The doctor was gone. 

_Strange,_ Lupin thought, glancing back at Severus.   
  
"Are you all right?" he asked, as soon as Severus and the elderly doctor reached him. 

"Let's just get out of here as quickly as possible," Snape replied in his usual curt manner. 

Lupin nodded, not surprised by the rebuke. "Very well. If you're ready, there's a carriage outside." 

"Good." 

Snape continued to walk. Lupin sighed, and turned to follow. The doctor he had been talking to was staring intently in his direction. With all the people around, Lupin hadn't even noticed him slipping into that shadowy corner of the room. 

Snape stopped as well, and turned to look in the direction that Lupin was peering. "What is it?" he demanded. 

Lupin shook himself. "Nothing. It's nothing. Let's go." 

He and Snape headed out the door, stepping into the bright sunlight outside.  


_Strange,_ Lupin thought again. 

(A/N: The lyrics from Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire" are the property of Mr. Joel and his record label, not I. I only borrowed them for my own nefarious purposes.) 


	7. Part Six

Part Six

_Severus Snape's Journal, Late Saturday Afternoon_

_Sometimes I wonder what would have been different if my mother were still alive. I suppose it's because of seeing my father again that I'm even thinking of her at all._

_I didn't know her very well. She died when I was four years old, but I remember certain things--she had eyes like mine and loved earrings that dangled.  I didn't know then that my mother was not like other mothers. I thought it was perfectly normal to watch her perform in her various plays.  Quite the actress, my mother--both professionally and privately. I never guessed that she was dying._

_Would I have still turned out this way, had she lived? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I know that it does no good to dwell on it…yet I cannot help myself._

_But mainly when I remember my mother, I remember what my father was like with her. He was always laughing, it seemed. He loved her--and for a few years, me as well.   
  
Of course, good things never last. She died, my father fell apart, and I survived. My father didn't know what to do with me, it seemed. Oh, he made sure I had everything I needed--but he was never actually there if he could help it. I got used to it--there wasn't much else I could do. _

_I've mentioned before that I told him that I was a Death Eater. He knew--yet as far as I know, he never breathed a word of it to anyone else. And for years, I've wondered why, when he was so angry with me. What better revenge than to have me shut up in Azkaban forever? I've often thought about what I would say or do if I ever saw my father again, and all of my imagined scenarios culminated in that particular question._

_And then it really happened. _

_I didn't ask him. I simply berated him and told him to leave. He did not say much, for his part. Perhaps I expected that. He was never very talkative around me. He took my verbal lashing, though he could hardly look me in the eye. _

_I didn't want to see him. I hate that he has dredged up so many memories. I will never forgive him for what he did. It is not in my nature to forgive those who wrong me as deeply as he has.  
  
_

Severus lay on his back in bed after closing his journal, staring up at the ceiling.

He still hadn't gone near his quiz papers--perhaps he should consider it, as they were due in on Monday. On the other hand, he did not feel up to it at all. What could the students really do, anyway, if their quizzes were handed back late? Given the results of the few that he had chanced to look at, it would probably be a blessing in disguise. Perhaps he would get Delacour to take care of it.

He had spoken with Dumbledore briefly, and they had both agreed to keep the story as quiet as possible. He would probably have to speak with the headmaster again at some point, as well as Lupin, whom Dumbledore would probably want to assist in the investigation. For the moment, however, Severus had asked to be left alone--under the strict promise that he would not leave the school grounds.  He hadn't liked that, but he grudgingly agreed to the terms.

As it was, he could barely concentrate on lying still. His father's face plagued him every time he closed his eyes. And, of course, the small matter of someone trying to kill him.

Severus had gone through his mental list of enemies, trying to think of one that would be so bold as to attack him directly. There weren't many. There was Lucius Malfoy, who despised him, but he had a reputation to uphold--surely he would not risk a direct confrontation. Such a move would attract a lot of negative attention, and Malfoy couldn't afford that. A student, perhaps? No, that was reaching....or was it? And the Dark Lord could not have discovered Snape's treachery yet, or he would already be a pile of ash on the floor. 

_Then who was it?_

One thing was for certain--he would have to figure it out, and soon. Severus had never been one to back down from a confrontation--and he wanted to confront the witch or wizard with enough gall to seek him out directly.  
  
He got up from his bed, and crossed the room. It wouldn't do to spend all day lying here. He would have to grade those papers sometime. 

Severus remembered something his mother had said when he was very small... 

_"The show must go on." _

_Yes, Mother, Severus thought, turning the doorknob. __So it must._

                                        *******************************

"Hello, Mami_," Mariela said cheerfully, as Pira Santiago opened the door opened the door to Snape Manor._

Pira's eyes narrowed at her daughter. "Maria Aurelia, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I got to leave early," Mariela replied, breezing past her mother into the sparsely decorated entrance hall. "And I thought I would pay a visit to my dear _madre and the master of the house. Is he here?"_

"Yes, he came home early also," Pira replied, furrowing her brow. "But--"  
  
"Good, I need to speak with him about something," Mariela replied airily, hoping that her mother would not ask what. "Where is he?"  
  
"I think he's upstairs in his music room. But _hija, he does not want to see visitors now. He told me so when he came home."  
  
"He'll want to hear what I have to tell him, Mami," she said. "Please, will you let me go see him? I don't want to get you in trouble, though. I'll tell him one of the other servants let me in--Clara, maybe. She's foolish enough to forget his orders, and you know he'd never tell her off for it."  
  
"That's why we keep her in the kitchen," Pira grumbled. "Very well, go. I did not see you."_

  
Mariela kissed her mother on the cheek. "Thank you, Mami."  
  
She ran up the winding staircase, taking the steps two at a time.

                                         *******************************

_Beethoven or Handel? Septimus mused, holding up two pieces of sheet music before his eyes. _

He put both sheets down on the silent piano keys, and closed his eyes. He reached out, and chose one.

_Beethoven it is._

Septimus began to play the Pathetique Sonata, allowing his mind to slip back into the trancelike state he entered when playing. It was his only solace at the moment...

_"Murderer!"_

_Plink. Septimus swore under his breath as his index finger hit the wrong key. He hadn't made that mistake since he was a boy of eighteen. He'd thought he would be safe from his terrifying dreams here, but it was not to be._

Livia had called him a murderer in his frightening dream. Why? He had nothing to do with the attack on Severus, could not imagine doing such a thing. Apparently, someone else felt very differently. 

_No man should ever have to explain his dreams, Septimus thought, massaging his temples with the tips of his fingers. Lately, sleep seemed to be the source of never-ending headaches for him._

He started to play again, trying to clear all thoughts of his disturbing dream and his encounter with his son out of his mind. The notes flowed smoothly and softly...

_Knock. Knock._

_Plink! "Oh, bloody hell," Septimus muttered under his breath. He rose from the piano-forte and strode over to the door. "Pira, I told you I didn't want to see anyone!"_

"It's Mariela," came the voice from the other side of the door.

_Damn._

Septimus sighed resignedly, and opened the door. "I'm sorry, Mariela, but I'm in no state to receive company at the moment. Didn't your mother tell you?"

Mariela brushed a strand of curly hair out of her eyes, avoiding his eyes. "Clara let me in. I need to speak with you, Septimus. It's important."

"Later, Mariela," Septimus replied stiffly, silently damning the maidservant and knowing full well that he wouldn't bother to reprimand her. He never did. "This is not a good time--"  
  


"It's about Severus!" Mariela interrupted, her eyes narrowing.

Septimus frowned, and stepped back wordlessly to allow Mariela in the room.

She took a seat on the piano-forte bench, while Septimus paced around. How could Mariela know? Had she spoken to Severus? Had he told her about their argument in the hospital? Or the argument the night that he had left the manor?

_God, how will I ever explain this to her? _

"You already know he was attacked," Mariela said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I spoke to Dr. Carstairs at the hospital. You treated him."  
  
Septimus nodded his head, continuing to pace. 

"I was part of the law enforcement team at the site of the attack," she continued. 

"And?" Was that his voice? It sounded so cold, so callous. Mariela looked surprised his tone as well.

_"And, I thought you might like an update. Severus was released from the hospital earlier today. And Mr. Bertram was ordered to call off the investigation altogether."  
  
Septimus stopped pacing. "What?"   
  
__Wait a moment--why does it matter to me? Severus wants nothing to do with me--he implied as much before. Very well, then. I shall do precisely what he wants. _

He could feel his emotions shutting off, as they had when Livia died. As they had when Severus left home. The cool, aloof mask was slipping back into place once more.

"Apparently Cornelius Fudge himself ordered it," Mariela continued. "Though Bertram's convinced that someone else talked him into it."

_Which wouldn't be difficult, Septimus thought in disgust. All one needed was the right amount of money and the right family name, and they could talk the Minister into anything. He paused by the window, clasping his hands behind his back, and glanced outside._

"Septimus?" she asked tentatively.

He jerked his head ever so slightly in her direction. "Yes?"

"I was supposed to talk to Severus today," Mariela said. "I'm still going to, Ministry be damned."  
  
"This has nothing to do with any of us," Septimus replied sharply.

"What? But--"  
  
"He _left," Septimus snapped, whirling around. "You know that much, don't you? Severus isn't interested in us. He told me as much in the hospital. I see no reason to get involved with whatever trouble he's in now!"_

"But he's your son!" Mariela cried, leaping to her feet. "Don't you _care?"_

Septimus did not answer Mariela, only turned back to the window. He could hear her footsteps, walking toward the door. He heard the creak as it opened.

_I wish I could make you understand, Mariela...but there are some things I cannot tell you, or even your mother. It is best if this secret remains with me. _

"I'm going to find out," he heard her say softly. "Because _I care, whether you do or not!"_

The door shut with a snap, and Septimus was alone again.

                                                **************************

"I must say, you did a very neat job of it," Lucius Malfoy remarked, as McKinnon poured him a cup of tea. "I gathered from the report that there wasn't a trace of a Disapparition spell."  
  
"I didn't need one," Anthony replied, pouring himself a cup as well. "I saw that crowd coming my way, and I slipped off just before the officers came. No one was looking at me; they were all preoccupied with the flames."  
  
"Very fortunate."  
  
And it was, Malfoy decided. It could have very easily gone wrong. He would have to reprimand Lestrange as soon as he got the chance. Still, the idea of Snape fearing for his life was enough to pacify him. For the moment, anyway.   
  
A ghost of a smile crossed Anthony's lips as he sat down at the small card table across from Malfoy. "Snape never even knew what hit him."  
  
Malfoy allowed himself a slight smile, and chose his next words carefully. "Your father, I believe, would be very..._proud." It really was a horrible sort of dramatic irony that Snape would die for a crime that Malfoy himself had committed._

But then, he decided, he had always had a flair for drama.

There was still the danger that Snape might suspect. McKinnon had told him all about his meeting with the Delacour girl, and his encounter with Snape. Malfoy couldn't pretend Snape was a fool, after all. That was the most difficult and challenging part of waging a battle, after all. Knowing one's opponent was paramount. And choosing one's battles was just as important.

McKinnon put down his teacup, and looked up at Malfoy with those eyes...his father's eyes. "Thank you, sir."

_In times like these especially, Malfoy decided, __I am grateful not to have a working conscience. A lesser man might have felt guilty. Malfoy only smiled, in his best imitation of a sympathetic manner._

He set down his teacup. "The remaining question is, what will you do now? Time is short, and Snape will be on his guard. You cannot afford to wait much longer."

"True," Anthony replied, his brow furrowing. "But I don't know..."

The note of hesitance in his voice was all too clear. Malfoy could not afford for McKinnon to have an attack of conscience _now. At least, not until the boy had served his purpose..._

Malfoy leaned across the table. "If you do not take care of this yourself, the Ministry certainly will not help you. And who knows just how long it will be before Snape kills again in the name of the Dark Lord?"  
  
Anthony's mouth curved into a smile--and not a very stable one. "He won't live that long."

_Silly, naive child, Malfoy thought, fighting hard to keep the wide smile off his mouth. If only people would not make it so __easy for him to use and discard....ah, well. A man needed his diversions, did he not?_

It would not be long now.

                                        ********************************

"It doesn't make sense."

Remus Lupin tossed his copy of _The Daily Prophet back onto the coffee table. Not a word had been printed about the attack on Snape. It was strange--normally, it was the sort of thing that would appear on the front page. But there was nothing. He glanced over at his companion, who had been listening to his theories for the better half of the last hour._

"Of course it does," Sirius replied, as he picked up the newspaper. "Someone doesn't want this kind of news getting out. Probably Fudge--he'd want to keep events like this quiet. They tend to stir up suspicion, and that interferes with his state of denial." There was a decidedly cutting edge to that last remark. His face was more drawn than usual, his mouth hardened into a purposeful line.

_At least that means he's taking this seriously, Remus thought, chancing a brief look at his old friend.  
  
In response to the comment, Remus merely shook his head. "Dumbledore didn't seem to that Fudge was heavily involved, although I admit it's possible. This attack was vicious and premeditated. But who could have done it?"   
  
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Sirius demanded hotly.  
  
"Don't worry, I know it wasn't you," Remus responded, hiding a smile. "You were with me. But who else would have a motive for so bold an attack?"  
  
It was Sirius' turn to glower.  
  
"I meant __other than you and I," Remus said, exasperated. _

"Just a moment," Sirius remarked, leafing through the paper in search of the crossword puzzle. "Snape will be dead of old age by the time we finish going through all of his enemies. Why don't we start by finding out who _couldn't have maneuvered the attack?"_

"I suppose that's reasonable," Remus replied thoughtfully, as he crossed the room. Something had fallen to the floor beneath the cloak rack, he noticed. Though he might not live in the upper ten percent, he at least liked to ensure that his surroundings were neat.

Bending down, he reached for the small scrap of paper.

"What's that?" he heard Sirius ask.

Remus straightened, and stood up once more, still holding the scrap of paper. "It's the card that officer gave me."  
  
_Officer M.A. Chavez, Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

Maybe the officers _had found something, even if they were keeping it hidden. And perhaps this woman would know something useful--a description, for example. In any case, it couldn't hurt to try._

He turned the card over in his hands, and glanced up at Sirius. "In the meantime, I have another idea."

                                    ******************************

"Professor Snape? I 'ave finished with zee last of zeese quizzes," Fleur Delacour spoke up hesitantly from her place in Professor Snape's office doorway.

_Oh, please, let this be done soon, Fleur thought, trying not to tap her feet impatiently._

He did not even look up from his own pile of quizzes spread out on his desk.

"Very well," he said, his tone flat  "I've nearly finished mine as well. Just check the amount of belladonna in the student store cupboard, and then you may go for the day."

Fleur backed out of the office gracefully. That had been slightly less hellish than usual. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy her teaching duties--most of the time, she did. But Professor Snape's odd mood swings and mannerisms puzzled her to no end.   
  
Today he'd been particularly strange. He had not snapped at her once. Snape had simply divided the work for both of them, and told her to go out into the classroom and grade the quizzes. Something was obviously wrong, but she couldn't imagine what. And despite Snape's current temperament, she did not dare ask him.

She stepped out into the dungeon, her footsteps echoing in the dank chamber. No matter how many times she walked through this room, she could never quite get used to it. It was just so...dark, so unpleasant. She had tried to redecorate on her second day there. Snape, needless to say, had put an end to _that idea._

At the very least, Fleur could hold her own in Potions. She was talented, and she had learned much from Professor Snape these past few weeks.

_But am I truly ready to take his place? After only a year? _

It was not in Fleur's nature to second-guess herself. She made a decision and followed it through until the end. Still...despite her talent, she did not possess Snape's passion for his subject.   
  
Suddenly she laughed aloud. _'Passion' and 'Snape'? Those are two words that do not __belong in the same sentence._

"Delacour, are you still out there?" Snape barked.

"Er...yes, sir," Fleur called back, hurrying to the student store cupboard, and hastily unlatching the doors. She peered inside at the various jars and boxes. "Zee belladonna levels are fine for zis week, but we should restock soon."

"Good. You may go now."

"Thank you, sir."  
  
She relatched the cupboard doors, and strode over to the desk where she had been working. Reaching for her satchel, she was suddenly distracted by a noise at the doorway.

  
The satchel fell to the floor, spilling its contents.

_"Damnez-le!" Fleur cried, straightening up and turning toward the source of the noise._

"And a good day to you as well, Miss Delacour," Albus Dumbledore remarked, stepping over the threshold.

A thousand more curses raced through her mind, as she worked hard not to cringe from embarrassment. "Forgive me, 'eadmaster, I did not know it was you."  
  
"Apparently not," Dumbledore replied, smiling pleasantly. "I am sorry to have startled you. Is Professor Snape in?"  
  
Glad for a change of topic, Fleur nodded. "Yes, 'e is in 'is office...I was just leaving for zee day."  
  
"I see. Goodbye, then, Miss Delacour."  
  
"Goodbye, sir."  
  
Dumbledore continued into Snape's office, while Fleur went about hastily gathering her belongings. In her hurry, she did not notice the small object nestled just underneath the chair...

It was not until she was outside the dungeon and halfway down the corridor that she reached into her bag, and noticed--

_Oh, no. As the English say, 'bloody hell'._

Sighing, she turned back to the direction of the classroom. As tired as she was of that dungeon, she did not want to explain to Professor Snape why she had brought a hairbrush into his classroom. She had the sneaking suspicion that he would be even less sympathetic than most men.

She opened the door as silently as possible, and stepped into the classroom once more. The door to Snape's office was still slightly open, and bits of conversation drifted into her hearing.

"...must find what this is about..."

"...handling it well enough, Dumbledore..."

_Aha! Fleur reached down, and plucked the hairbrush from its place on the floor. She slid it carefully back in her bag_

"...tried to kill you, Severus!"

Fleur nearly dropped the bag in surprise as she looked up sharply, her attention fully arrested. Hardly daring to utter a breath, she moved closer to the door...

                                                *******************************

"Oh, really?" Severus demanded, his dark eyes flashing. "I hadn't noticed!"

Dumbledore's face showed no sign of surprise at his volatile reaction. Only the same worry that had been present when he had entered the office.

_Brilliant, Severus. Absolutely genius. Snap at the man who saved your soul so many years ago, and who is doing everything he can to protect you now.  He sighed, and stood up from his desk._

"I...am sorry," he said, with the awkwardness of one not accustomed to saying certain words.

Dumbledore nodded, stepping closer.  "Severus, please don't mistake my concern as underestimating your strength--I can assure you, it is nothing of the kind. You are more than formidable. But with all the recent..._events in your life....it would be enough to unravel anyone."_

"Albus, I am perfectly...._raveled," Snape said at last. __Oh, Lord, did I really just say that?_

"We must get to the bottom of this," Dumbledore said. "If you'll forgive me stating the obvious. Whoever attacked you--"  
  
"--wasn't a trained assassin," Snape replied. "I've dealt with their kind before, and they aim to kill. This one didn't want to kill me. It was a warning."

"If that is the case," Dumbledore said gravely, "Then they will try again."  
  
A dark, humorless smile crossed Severus' mouth. "Oh, I hope they will."

                                    *********************************

The small house-elf led Mariela into the entrance hall, after she had presented her Ministry of Magic credentials. With any luck, she would be able to see Severus as soon as possible. 

She looked about the large room in unabashed amazement. She had never been inside Hogwarts, and she was surprised at how very different it was from the open, airy school she had attended in Spain.

_Beautiful to look at, but I don't know how the English stand__ living in these mausoleums! _

"Please wait here, miss," the house-elf said. "Professor Snape will be here soon."

The small creature hurried off, and Mariela was left alone.

_I have to find out what's going on. I need answers. Who would attack Severus? And why?   
Would he even remember her? It __had been many years, after all. He might not even recognize her. Or if he did, he might just be as closemouthed as his father. _

  
It seemed strange that, for all of Septimus and Severus' differences, they were exactly alike in their flaws. Both were proud as anything and twice as stubborn. 

Mariela shook her head. These kinds of musings were not going to get her anywhere. Severus would have to face her. He would have to answer her questions.

She removed her cloak, folding it in her arms. 

He had _better answer her questions._

_Otherwise, she thought, glancing around once more,__ I'm right back where I started._

  
  



	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

(A/N: I want to apologize for the ludicrous wait between chapters, and also to thank anyone who is actually still following this story. Don't _ever go to art school if you want to get anything else done. ;))_

_"What?!"_

The house-elf backed up, cowering before Professor Snape's desk. "I-I said that an officer from the Ministry, sir, she wishes to talk to you."  
  
Severus ran his hand through his short hair, nearly pulling it out in his agitation. "I _heard_ that part. What did you say the name was?"

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore broke in, raising his hands in a placating gesture. He turned to the small creature before them, looking kindly down on him. "What was the name of the officer, Dobby?"

"Ch-chavez, sir." The house-elf held up a small, rectangular piece of paper. "Here's the card, sir."  
  
"You should have given me that straight off," Severus snapped, taking the card from the elf. Heart pounding, he turned the card over in his hands, and stared intently at the name.

_M.A. Chavez_

M.A.

Maria Aurelia. It couldn't stand for anything else. 

_So she married Gabriel Chavez after all_, Severus thought. _No surprises there, he was always in love with her. But what is she doing here?_

Of course, it _could_ be a coincidence. M.A. could stand for something else, couldn't it? Just another woman of Spanish heritage and similar initials to the girl he had known as a child, that was all.

He didn't believe it for a second.

"Severus?" Dumbledore asked gently. 

"She's in the entrance hall, you say?" Severus asked, and Dobby nodded vigorously.  
  
"Would you like me to accompany you, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape considered. He could not escape talking to Mariela now, no matter what. Dumbledore would be suspicious if he flatly refused to see her, and he had no wish to explain to the headmaster precisely how he knew her. If he had to speak to her at all, it might as well be in private.

"No. No thank you. I will go myself."  
  


"Very well, sir." Dobby bowed, and ducked out the room as quickly as his feet would carry him. After a long moment, Dumbledore turned to leave. 

He paused briefly in the doorway, and remarked, in a voice almost inaudible, "If you need assistance, Severus, do not be too proud to ask."

"No, Headmaster. I will be fine."

The door shut with a snap.

He could simply avoid her. Just leave her standing in the entrance hall. She would leave eventually.__

_Please. You've known her since you were a child. She wouldn't leave. She'd simply pester until she got what she wanted. _

_You could have instructed the house-elf to lie and say that you were out. You didn't._

He would have to talk to the Ministry sooner or later, if only to find out what they knew. He had been prepared for that. But he had _not expected to be forced to see Mariela. Despite his attempts to deny it, Severus had developed a deep distrust for coincidence in all its forms._

Severus did not care at all for indecision. He would make up his mind.

He would see her. And send her away when she was through. 

_Decision made,_ Severus thought as he strode through the door to his classroom. 

                                       **********************************

Mariela drummed her fingers against the stone wall, unable to find a reassuring rhythm. She turned away from the wall in frustration, only to-

_"Madre de Dios!"_ she cried.

"What a lovely greeting," the tall figure in the beautifully arched doorway replied, stepping into the light. 

He still looked very much as he did at age nineteen. He was still tall and lanky, like his father. And yet, the angles of his face were harsher somehow, and his eyes much colder.

_I wonder if I look different,_ Mariela thought, struck by the sudden idea. _Perhaps that's why he almost looks right through me._

"I knew it would be you," Severus said, holding up Mariela's card. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here about the attempt on your life yesterday," she replied in her most official tone of voice.   
  
Severus gave her a sideways glance, looking almost amused. "Really. And the Ministry has information?"

Mariela hesitated. "Well…no, actually."  
  
"Then you are here to….what? Wish me a speedy recovery?"  
  
"Cut the sarcasm," Mariela snapped. "I'm here to talk to you about what happened. Officially, the Ministry has called off the investigation-"

"In that case," Severus replied, cutting her off, "You shouldn't be here at all, should you? It could be considered….against the rules, couldn't it?"  
  
"If I were here on duty, yes," Mariela replied. There was no point in trying to deceive him. "But I'm not here as a Ministry official."  
  
She took a deep breath. "I'm here as a friend."

                                    *************************************

_I'm here as a friend. _

_Damn you, you foolish woman! Still as annoyingly  persistent as ever, Mariela. Still so naïve, so in the dark. You don't know why I left, you haven't seen me in years, and yet you come to me as a friend?_

He wasn't the same person anymore. It was a simple, undeniable truth. But Mariela…she was the same. She would never understand, not in a thousand years.  
  
"As a friend, Mariela? Or 'Mrs. Chavez', I suppose I should call you now."

"Whatever you prefer," Mariela replied impatiently. "Just answer me this--did you see who attacked you?"  
  
Severus gave a short, derisive laugh. "If I had, I would not have left enough of him to stuff a matchbox with!"  
  


Mariela raised a dark eyebrow. "I'll take that as a no. Did you hear anything, at least?"

_So the Ministry knows nothing,_ Snape thought, attempting to push his memory of the man's laughter out of his mind. _In that case, this conversation has served its purpose...and I cannot look at Mariela much longer. She reminds me of the past--and that is never a positive thing._

"I still don't see what business it is of yours, Mariela," Severus replied, turning to leave. "Good day."

She stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "Oh, no you don't."  
  
"Get out of my way!"  
  
"That was rude," she countered. "And here I thought your father raised you to be a gentleman!"  
  
Her words hit with such force that Severus was sure for a moment that she had cursed him. However, he managed to recover quickly.  
  
_"Never mention him in my presence," _he hissed, looming over her like a rattlesnake poised to attack.  "He is out of my life!"

"The attack's worried him," Mariela said quietly, looking up at him. Her brown eyes seemed to burn into his black ones. "He's as proud and arrogant as you are, so of course he won't say so. Truth be told, he didn't treat me any better than you just did."  
  
_That isn't like Father,_ Severus thought, his mind racing. _He is usually courteous...when he isn't turning his only son out of the house, anyway. And he's never spoken harshly with Mariela, not that I can remember._

But it changed nothing.

Mariela's features softened, as she stepped closer to him. To his surprise, he did not back away.

"Even if the Ministry has decided the case is closed, I don't agree with them," she informed him. "What's more, if there's someone out there attacking people, they shouldn't remain loose. If you won't think of yourself, think of the others who could get hurt if we don't find the perpetrator!"

He could tell her. He could tell her what he knew, of the voice he had heard just before the explosion...and of the laughter that haunted his dreams. And she would put the information to good use--the woman had a knack for unearthing the truth.

_But some truths should remain hidden, Mariela. Or at least, left in the hands of those best equipped to handle it. Someone wants me put out of the way, and I am not willing to risk any unnecessary casualties. Not even my father. Or you, Mariela. _

"You cannot help me," he said, feeling strangely devoid of emotion. "And I can tell you nothing. Now let me pass, or I will have our gamekeeper escort you out."

"I'm not holding you prisoner," Mariela replied. "So there's no need for threats. But if you do remember anything, if you need help...don't be too proud to ask for it."  
  
Snape looked at her in surprise, though he tried to mask it. She stood aside for him, and he swept past her.

When he reached the end of the corridor, he turned once more.  
  
"Go home, Mariela," he said. "Go back to your perfect life...and forget me."

He pushed open the door, and let it close behind him.

The sound created a booming echo in the ancient hall.  

                                                *********************

"Excuse me, sir!"  
  
Remus Lupin broke into a run, every footstep bringing him closer, until at last he was facing a tall, white-haired wizard.

"What is it?" the wizard asked. "And you'd better make this good, son, I haven't got much time."  
  
"Are you Alexander Bertram, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" he asked.

"I am," Bertram replied. "Just Bertram will do. Can I help you?"

"Can you tell me where I can find a Mariela Chavez?"

Remus had been scouring the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for the better part of a half an hour in search of this woman. He was beginning to wonder if he'd simply imagined her.

Bertram ignored the question, and stepped closer to Remus. "Who are you?"

"My name is Remus Lupin, sir. I spoke to Officer Chavez yesterday, at the cemetery-"

  
"Oh," the older wizard said. "Sorry, but we can't be too careful nowadays. You were a witness to the crime?"  
  
"Not exactly," Remus replied. "But the wizard who was attacked is a...er..._friend_ of mine."   
  
_I'm glad Snape is nowhere near,_ he thought. _I don't want to _think_ about how he'd react to what I just said!_

"I see," Bertram replied with a resigned sigh. "Well, I'm sorry about your friend, and I hope he's recovered. As for Chavez, I sent her home earlier. The investigation was called off--"  
  


"What?" Remus asked. _I can't have heard that right. Did he just say..._

"The investigation was called off." Bertram repeated the words slowly, as though Remus were learning English for the first time.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Are you a reporter, son?"  
  
Remus almost laughed. This was the second time in two days that someone had asked him that. "No, sir. Would it be all right if I left Officer Chavez a note in her office?"  
  
Bertram considered carefully. "I suppose," he said reluctantly. "But I'll escort you there myself, and out of the building when you're through."  
  
"I understand perfectly," Remus replied politely. He had expected that. 

  
Alexander Bertram regarded him suspiciously, and motioned for Remus to follow him.

Several younger witches and wizards scurried out of Bertram's way as he led Remus down the corridor. Only a few streaks of light managed to filter through the narrow window, and Remus felt more than a little claustrophobic.

A few moments later, Bertram stopped in front of a door. After tapping it with his wand, he murmured something under his breath--a password, Remus guessed. The door swung open, and Bertram stepped aside to allow him into the office.

_                                           **************************************_

_I'll have to fly back to the office, if I want to make it in without being noticed._

Mariela had always found Muggle expressions amusing. For example, they talked of 'flying' places to mean 'going somewhere very quickly'. But she was literally flying--on a broomstick.

_Well, give me the high life,_ she thought, sorry that Septimus wasn't around to appreciate her terrible pun. But then, he had been so strange lately.

She did love to fly, and though she was tempted to take her time about it, she managed to arrive back at the office in less than an hour.

The receptionist was so used to seeing her that he probably wouldn't have looked twice, even if he hadn't been absorbed in his book (_Wizards' Guide to Wooing Witches, Mariela noted as she tried valiantly not to laugh.) There was no use in attracting undue attention._

She made her way down the familiar hallways. Most people, it seemed, were out on duty, or in their offices working. In either case, it worked well for her. It would be awkward to run into anyone--especially Mr. Bertram--after she'd been dismissed for the day. Bertram was no fool, he'd want an explanation. 

Mariela was so focused on her thoughts that she didn't even notice the figure coming from the opposite end of the hallway, until--

"Ooof!"

"Watch where you're going!" Mariela snapped, jarred out of her reverie. 

""Chavez, is that you?" Alexander Bertram demanded, bending down to help up his companion, the man who Mariela had knocked down.  
  
"Yes, sir," Mariela replied, as the man got back to his feet. It was then that he brushed the light brown hair out of his eyes, and she recognized him.

"You!" she cried, before her manners could assert themselves.

"Officer Chavez," he greeted her calmly.

"We were just looking for you," Bertram put in, looking from Mariela to the brown-haired man. "Mr. Lupin here left a note in your office. Might I ask what you're doing back here, Chavez?"  
  
"I forgot that I had an appointment to see Mr. Lupin," Mariela replied, not batting an eyelash. "You know me."  
  
Bertram rolled his eyes skyward. "I do indeed. Why the devil didn't you mention you had an appointment, Mr. Lupin?"

"I'm afraid that I am not well-versed in the workings of the Ministry," Lupin replied. "It didn't occur to me."  
  
Alexander sighed. "Oh, very well. But remember what I told you, Chavez—the case is closed. Don't go beating at stone walls."

"Yes, sir," Mariela responded obediently.

Bertram looked as though he didn't believe her for a second, and threw them both a glance as he made his way back down the hall.

When he was safely around the corner, Mariela rounded on Lupin. "Well?"

************************************ 

"So, what do you think?" Loki asked, leaning back in his chair.

"That you're crazy," Anthony replied, frowning at the map that was spread out between them on the small card table in his hotel room.

"No, I'm not. No one's used it in years, and no one wants to. It's completely isolated."

"But the Shrieking Shack?" Anthony demanded. "I'm not that much of a fool, Lestrange. Everyone in these islands knows that it's haunted."  
  
"No, everyone _believes_ that it's haunted," Loki responded, raising one eyebrow sardonically. "Don't you read, McKinnon? The Shack was built in the 1970s, but no one knows precisely why. All anyone knows is that around that time they heard mad shrieks and howls, and decided that it was haunted. _But,_" he went on significantly. "Those sounds only occurred once a month. At the full moon."  
  
Anthony stared for a moment. _Once a month—but that would mean---either a poltergeist reenacting the same event at the same time each month, or—_

"A werewolf?" he asked.

"What's more, the land is owned by Professor Minerva McGonagall of Hogwarts," Loki continued. "And a student later discovered to be a werewolf was admitted that year."  
  
"How do you know all this?"  
  
Loki shrugged, the smirk never leaving his mouth. "I talk to the right people, and they point me in the right directions. From there, all any bloke has to do is use his head. That place isn't haunted, which makes it perfect for your little revenge crusade."

"But no one can get in there, Lestrange!"  
  
Anthony didn't really think this would be a problem for someone like Loki, but he felt the need to say it just the same. He didn't like this young man, or trust him in the least. Still, he had to wonder…

_What kind of people raised you? Why are you this way to begin with?_

His own foster mother, Marguerite, was a kind but misguided woman. After his adoption, she had put away the pictures of his parents, hoping to wipe the memory of that horrible night from his memory forever.

Anthony had pretended, for her sake, that he didn't remember. He couldn't speak of it to her, or to his foster father Henri. They wouldn't have understood—and how could they?  
  
When he was sixteen, he found his parents' photographs in the attic. He'd taken them into his bedroom, and they had stayed with him ever since. Looking at those faces that he could barely remember, he wanted more than ever to bring their killers to justice, so they could rest in peace at last.

_Or is it so that _you_ can rest in peace at last? An irritating voice in the back of his mind demanded._

"No one outside Hogwarts, it's true," Loki replied, chuckling. "And I doubt Professor McGonagall's going to hand over the key. But you know someone at Hogwarts, don't you? Someone close to Snape?"  
  
"If you mean Fleur Delacour—"  
  
"Of course I do. You're a handsome lad, as the maiden ladies say. She's a beautiful girl. You do the math."  
  
Anthony almost hexed Loki on the spot. Fleur was a bit self-centered, it was true, but she hardly deserved to be used that way.   
  
"We'll have to find another way," he snapped. "And get your filthy ideas out of the gutter, Lestrange, she isn't that kind of girl."  
  
Lestrange put his hands in the air in a mock surrender. "If you say so, McKinnon. Now, what do you say to some dinner? All this planning for another wizard's demise makes a man hungry."


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Mariela Chavez leaned forward on her desk. "And you're sure?"

Remus Lupin sighed. "The only thing that I _am sure of is that we know nothing."_

They had been sitting in Mariela's office for just over twenty minutes, discussing what little they knew of the mysterious attack on Severus Snape. 

It had only been five minutes into the conversation when Mariela had told him to simply address her by her first name. Remus had decided that he rather liked her forthright manner—it reminded him a little of Sirius.  
  
She chewed rather unprofessionally at the end of her quill. "So Severus is a friend of yours, is he?"  
  


"I—yes—well, in a manner of—" Remus stopped short. _Why would she use his first name? Unless…_

Clearing his throat, he raised one eyebrow. "Are you?"  
  
Mariela's eyes narrowed, as though she were judging how much to tell him. Finally, she nodded.

"Yes, or at least I was. Both of my parents worked for the Snape family. We grew up together. My father died five years ago, so now it's just Mother that works there. Severus left years ago, and nobody knew why."  
  
"Really," Remus replied. But then, was it really so surprising? Everything about Severus Snape seemed to be veiled in mystery. Why not his family as well?

Mariela nodded. "His father would never say what his reasons were, and after awhile I stopped asking. Dragging a secret from a Snape is like dragging a jewel out of a Firecrab, you know?"  
  
Remus chuckled. "Personally, I would take the Firecrab."

Mariela laughed outright. "So would I!" 

She stopped laughing abruptly. "I'm sorry, we're getting off track. The point is, I've been forbidden to search for the perpetrator. And even if I could do it openly, I don't know how much I could find. There was no trace of magic at the scene that was usable, and there was such a crowd there—"

"He or she could have slipped off in the crowd," Remus suggested. "They wouldn't need magic, if they were there to begin with."  
  
"True," agreed Mariela. "I could go over the list of witnesses again, and check their backgrounds. He might have be among them, and slipped right by us!"  
  
"Couldn't that land you in trouble?" Remus asked.

"Most likely." Mariela replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes.  
  


"Then let me do it," Remus replied. "Snape would never forgive me if I caused a friend to lose her job."  
  
Mariela sighed. "We aren't exactly friends any longer. I talked to him earlier today at Hogwarts, and he made that perfectly clear."  
  
"I'm sorry," Remus replied sympathetically. He could certainly relate to the loss of a good friend. A change of subject was in order, he decided. 

"You say he still has family?"  
  
"A father," Mariela said, nodding. "Dr. Septimus Snape. I spoke to him as well—unofficially, of course. He hardly seemed to want to acknowledge it."

She slid her chair back from the desk, and opened the drawer. A moment later, she laid her notebook on the desk.

"The list and my notes are in there," she said, handing the notebook over to him. "If you find anything, come straight to me."  
  
"Of course," Remus replied, placing the book in his satchel.   
  
It was a lie, and he knew it. They couldn't afford any unnecessary involvement, given the amount of danger present. Mariela obviously had no idea of the depth of the situation, although she might suspect it.

Suspicions couldn't always prepare a person for disaster, though. Remus had learned that lesson the hard way.

He stood from his chair, and Mariela did the same. "Thank you, Officer—"  
  
"I told you to call me Mariela."  
  
"Mariela, then. Thank you, and I will let you know if I find anything."  
  
"Good luck, Mr. Lupin. I'll see you out."

                                                ************************************  
  


Severus stirred the cauldron, the liquid inside shimmering under the candlelight. It had been three days since Mariela had come to see him, and he felt as though every emotion he had been suppressing for the past fifteen years had come to the surface in one form or another. 

"Delacour, bring me the eye of newt," he said brusquely, his eyes focused on the cauldron in front of him.

Fleur, who had been cleaning the area around the cabinet, as he had instructed, stopped what she was doing. He heard sounds of rummaging, and the clinking of jars. Finally Fleur spoke.

"Zere is no more eye of newt in zis cabinet, Professor," she replied. "Shall I get zome from zee store cupboard?"  
  
Severus rolled his eyes, his frustration mounting. _Can nothing go right for me? Not even a blasted potion that I've made before?_

Granted, he wasn't particularly thrilled about having to make it. The Wolfsbane Potion was incredibly complicated, even for a professional like himself. It might have been a welcome challenge, if not for the fact that it was for Remus Lupin. 

"No, I'll get it myself. Don't touch the cauldron while I'm gone, or you'll be sorry you left France."  
  
He stormed out, quite unnecessarily. It seemed for a moment that he had his mother's flair for dramatic exits.

_Well, Mother, perhaps you and I would have gotten on well after all. Then again, it's probably better that you took your leave when you did. Father would never have survived the two of us._

He allowed his mind to return to the familiar patterns of anger and annoyance, finding an odd sort of comfort in them.

                                    **********************************

  
_There is no rest for the wicked—or the weary_, Remus thought as he entered Hogwarts. 

The notes Mariela had given him told him only a little more than he already knew. Interviews with all of the witnesses, though most had only heard the sounds of the attack, and random observations—some professional, some not. Remus had to smile at some of Mariela's comments about some old witch's reminiscences about the London blitz, most of them sarcastic.   
  
Sirius had done what he could, researching through recent Defense Against the Dark Arts publications, attempting to find matches in the names of the witnesses. It was a long shot, but still worth trying. He had also watched over the homes of the witnesses in his Animagus form, trying to ascertain if any of them was the culprit. So far, it had yielded little luck.

The house-elves all knew Remus by now, and let him pass without comment. He should probably at least stop in Dumbledore's office before he left, although he didn't really want to face his former headmaster with nothing.

Come to that, he did not wish to face Snape at all. Remus was not afraid of Snape, but he was altogether too tired to fend off his temper. Least of all when it was near to the full moon, and Remus' own emotions were more raw than usual—and when he depended on Snape to prevent him from turning into a ravenous beast.

It was _not_ an ideal situation.

Remus reached the dungeon in record time, and knocked on the door.

"Eet ees open, Professor," a heavily accented female voice called. "Why didn't you—" Suddenly a blue-robed figure appeared in the doorway of the classroom, and threw the door open.

"And what do you think you're doing 'ere?" she demanded, her brilliant blue eyes flashing.

Remus bit back a smile, as he realized this must be Snape's part-veela apprentice. "I'm here to see Professor Snape. You must be Miss Delacour."  
  
"Are you 'ere to attack 'im?" Fleur Delacour asked suspiciously.

"Not unless he hits me first," Remus replied. 

Miss Delacour smiled.

"My name is Remus Lupin," he continued. "Would you be so kind as to tell him that I'm here?"  
  
"Oh, 'e went to get zee eye of newt," she replied. "Come in and wait, please."

"Of course. Thank you, Miss Delacour."

He made himself comfortable at one of the student desks, while Miss Delacour bustled about, tidying up the dungeon.

"How do you enjoy working for Professor Snape?" he asked, more for the sake of good manners than anything else.

  
Miss Delacour paused, as though debating how to answer. "I am learning much," she replied. 

Remus accepted that. There really wasn't a tactful way to answer a question like that, although the look of distaste on her face gave her true feelings away.   
  
"Do you enjoy living at Hogwarts?" he asked.

This time he was rewarded with a smile. "Oh, yes. It eez very nice, leeving so close to 'Ogsmeade. Zee shopping eez good—not so good as in Paris, but better zan most in England. And zere are always people—only a few days ago, I met an old school friend of mine."  
  
"Oh yes? Anyone I might know?" Remus asked.

"Perhaps, I think 'e is English as well. Anthony McKinnon?"  
  
"I'm afraid not," he replied. Something about that name tugged at his memory…"Does he live around here?"  
  
Miss Delacour shook her head. "No, 'e is staying…come to think of eet, 'e didn't say. Somewhere in town, I suppose." She shrugged.

"Lupin, is that you?" Snape's voice demanded, and Remus looked up to see his black-clad figure standing in the doorway.

"The potion's not quite ready yet, but it shouldn't be much longer. Delacour! What on earth are you doing? Get those jars back in the cupboard and start on the ones in the office, where you can do less damage. Move!"

Snape turned his back on her, which was lucky, as he missed the face she made behind his back. Remus coughed, trying to mask his amusement, and the young witch disappeared into Snape's office. 

"How was your day?" he asked lightly.

Snape merely grunted in response.   
  
_Like talking to a horse,_ Remus thought. Out loud, he said, "Getting along with your apprentice, then?"  
  
It was the wrong thing to say. Of course, Remus could have commented on the ceiling tiles and it probably still would have offended Snape.

"What do you think?" Snape replied sharply. "She's adequate enough, inclined to think too much of herself, rather like certain schoolboys I knew!" 

Remus just stared at Snape wide-eyed for a moment, trying to control his emotions. He finally said calmly, "I have already apologized for my actions, or lack thereof, during that period of time. Nothing can change the past, Severus. And believe me, I regret that as much as you do."  
  
Snape snorted, and checked the cauldron again. "Not long now," he muttered. "Another minute should do the trick."  
  
"Do you know Anthony McKinnon?" Remus asked. "Miss Delacour mentioned that she saw him. The name sounded familiar—"  
  
"As well it should," Snape snapped, whirling around so quickly that he nearly hit the cauldron. "He's the son of Kevin McKinnon, the Auror. Do you remember, Remus? Kevin and Alice McKinnon? They had a little boy. Death Eaters killed them. I was there, and McKinnon begged me to spare his son!"  
  
"And now he's here in Hogsmeade," Remus said, considering the new information. "Does he know—who you are?"  
  
"How would he?" Snape demanded, spooning some of the potion into a goblet. "Very few are supposed to, or I wouldn't be doing my job very well, would I? Take this directly, Lupin."  
  


Remus took a reluctant sip, trying hard not to make a face. The Wolfsbane Potion's taste was in between horseradish and sardines, possibly worse than both combined.  
  
It would certainly be worth investigating a little more closely into Anthony McKinnon, and exactly what had brought him to Hogsmeade after all this time.

_Like those Muggle murder mysteries…always the most obvious person. Or is the least obvious? But in this case, he's our only suspect—and even that isn't saying much._

He would say nothing to Snape for the moment—Remus knew for a fact that another touchy subject would only irritate Snape further.

Suddenly, he had a lot to think about.

                                                *********************************

Loki strolled toward Anthony's inn, feeling rather cheerful. They had been meeting like this for the past few days, planning every detail of Snape's demise. Malfoy would be very pleased.

_And now it's almost showtime,_ Loki thought, his smile widening. 

He'd managed to gain Anthony access to the Shrieking Shack. It had definitely required the pulling of more than one string, and the bashing of quite a few heads. Malfoy had handled the former, and Loki the latter. All of this had to be done discreetly, of course.

Not that there was really any discreet way of bashing someone's head in, although Loki was sure that his victims would find it rather difficult to speak for some time to come.

He was so distracted by his pleasant train of thought that he crashed headlong into a short, curly-haired witch standing just outside of the doorway.

"Son of a—" Loki stopped short, realizing that swearing at a witch in the middle of a crowded street might attract attention. "I mean, sorry, madam, I didn't see you there."  
  
He took a second look at her. Despite his unusual upbringing, Loki was still the stereotypical twenty-one year old man. He had an appetite for women, even simple flirting.   
  
The witch he'd crashed into was short and rather dark in skin and hair, though she did have very white teeth. She wasn't English, he'd known enough foreign women to be able to tell the difference. She was too small for his taste, though not entirely unattractive. Older than his usual, but then, variety _was_ the spice of life.

"Well, that was obvious," the witch replied dryly. "You ought to be more careful!"

"Yes, madam," Loki replied obediently, unable to keep the slight smirk off of his mouth. It was really something to be told off by a woman who barely reached one's shoulder, he thought.

                                                *************************

Mariela crossed her arms over her chest and glanced at the young man in annoyance. Really! It wasn't enough that she had spent all of her free time in the last few days wandering around Hogsmeade, looking for clues, but now someone had to attempt to run her over as well!

And Septimus had been no help. She hadn't bothered to tell him she was still continuing the investigation, though she was keeping her mother posted.  

"Be more careful!" she snapped again, turning to leave.

_Wait a minute._

That young man looked awfully familiar…Mariela knew she'd seen him before. At work? Well, it was possible, a lot of young men passed through the Ministry. He probably worked in a different department. At any rate, even if her theory was correct, he didn't seem to recognize her. He had been coming by this hotel several times in the last few days, though occasionally she'd caught sight of him in local pubs.

She paused, and edged closer to the entrance, pulling a hat out of her handbag as she did so. The young man had his back to her now, waiting with his arms crossed—for what?

Mariela tucked her hair under the tall dark hat that covered half of her face, and opened her copy of _Witch Weekly_. She'd read it about seventeen times already this afternoon, trying to look inconspicuous. When she had the time, she would have to write to the editors and demand that they burn their recipe pages. She never had been much for cooking—

Her train of thought broke off as another young man appeared, having exited the inn. He was of a more muscular build than the dark-haired one, and had auburn hair badly in need of trimming.

She had to smile. Her husband was very much the same way about his hair, and it was rare that she could argue him into letting her—

"You're late, Lestrange," the auburn-haired man remarked.

_I definitely recognize that name,_ Mariela thought, her head spinning. Anyone who knew anything about the Dark Arts knew about the Lestrange family. 

"So are you, McKinnon," Lestrange replied, still wearing his smirk. "Just here to deliver a note from the boss, he doesn't care for the owl system." He held out a piece of parchment, which McKinnon took and read.

"Good," he said, his handsome features lighting with a rather twisted smile. Mariela felt a chill run down her spine, and raised her magazine a bit higher.

_McKinnon, McKinnon, where have I heard that? Another Dark Wizard? No, that can't be right…_

"Everything's ready. We're only waiting for you," Lestrange said, lowering his voice. She had to strain to hear.

"You won't be in suspense long," McKinnon replied with the same twisted grin. "I daresay he'll be surprised, won't he? After all those lovely fireworks—"  
  
"Are you out of your gourd? Don't talk about that here, you idiot!" Lestrange hissed. He glanced around furtively, and Mariela instinctively buried her nose in her magazine, pretending to be either very absorbed or very nearsighted.   
  
Apparently they didn't consider her a threat, because a moment later, they resumed talking.

  
"I'm headed back to London," Lestrange said. "If you need anything, you know where to contact us."  
  
"Of course," McKinnon replied. "Thank you, Lestrange."  
  
Lestrange looked rather surprised, but he grinned—not very reassuringly. He looked more like a grinning jackal than anything human.

"Any time, McKinnon."

When the two had parted ways, Mariela folded her magazine and casually walked away, though her heart was racing. 

_The Lestranges were Death Eaters…I never heard anything about a son, but it's possible—though he could be a nephew or something. The McKinnons…that was a long time ago that I last heard that name. Just before I went back to __Spain__.___

_Madre de Dios__! How could she have forgotten? They had been killed by Death Eaters! The names of all of those murdered by the Dark Lord were engraved in every Spanish Ministry officer's memory. _Nunca___ otra vez, that had become their motto after the Dark Lord's fall. By remembering the past, they would surely never repeat it.  
  
But what did any of that have to do with Severus? He couldn't—___

She had to go now, to someone who might be able to answer her questions.

_You're not ducking me this time, Septimus!_

                                                *************************************

Septimus still felt as cold as ever inside.

There was still work to be done, however. People never ceased to find new and interesting ways to injure themselves with magic. He had thrown himself into his work with renewed vigor, barely stopping to eat or sleep. Now it was just after dusk, the evening stars about to make their appearance.

"You ought to go home for a bit, sir," Dinah Brinton volunteered, eyeing him tentatively. The other nurses had been tiptoeing around him for the past forty-eight hours, and it was somewhat refreshing that one actually had the nerve to say something.

"Very little awaits me there," Septimus replied shortly. _Nothing but thoughts of my estranged son, which no music can drown out._

"But sir—"  
  
"Dinah, please!" he snapped, whirling around. "Leave well enough alone, won't you?"

The young nurse shot him a wounded look, and scurried off. Septimus felt terrible, though there was little he could say to mend it now.

_That's the story of my life, it would seem._

He strode by the bed of one of his patients, a witch who had been on the receiving end of a very nasty hex after an argument with her sister. Septimus picked up her chart and checked it over. She was making wonderful progress, and would probably be allowed to go home soon.

_Family problems are rampant these days, are they not? If only Severus and I could have gotten it out in the open—talked sooner. Even if he didn't listen to me, at least it wouldn't have been because I didn't say it._

He was an idiot, not to mention a terrible actor. How could he pretend that he didn't care what happened to his son? 

_But he wants nothing to do with me!_ _Oh, hell, I'm a coward. I can't face him, not again. _

But what if he was in danger? 

_Even if he were, what could I do? Listen to Mariela tell me about how they've found nothing?_

He'd overheard Mariela's conversations with her mother. Septimus couldn't blame Pira for wanting to know what happened to Severus—she'd taken care of him for most of his life. Still, he couldn't help feeling annoyed at her betrayal.

_Lucky that I never pretend to have logical thought patterns,_ he thought in disgust, putting the chart in its proper place.

He walked back toward the main desk.

"Septimus!" a woman's voice shouted, her voice ringing out in the hallway. 

Septimus turned, and Mariela Chavez skidded to a stop in front of him. His arms shot out, catching her shoulders just before she fell on him.

"Sorry," she rasped. "Ran…up…stairs…"  
  
"What are you doing here?" he asked. She looked as though she had just run through a wind tunnel. Her hat was askew, and her hair was a tangled mass about her face.

"I heard something you need to know," she replied, still trying to catch her breath. "It's about Sev—" she stopped short, seeing the look on Septimus' face. "About your son," she finished in a quieter tone.

"I thought I had made it clear that I was not interested," Septimus replied coldly.

"You did. But I'm going to tell you anyway, and you're going to listen," Mariela snapped, as though she were scolding one of her daughters.

"Dr. Snape!" another voice called out.   
  
Both Mariela and Septimus turned at the same time, to see a wizard in very shabby robes walking toward them. He was holding a sheet of parchment in his hands, and he was rather pale.

"Who are you?" Septimus asked, his dark brow furrowing. _Aren't I popular today?_

"My name is Remus Lupin, sir. I taught at Hogwarts with your son," the man replied. "I have something important to—oh, hello, Officer Chavez." For some reason, he looked slightly embarrassed, or guilty.

Mariela was glaring at him. "Do you? I thought you would come to _me if there was any new—"_

Septimus was completely lost. He took a deep breath. "This is all very interesting, but may we discuss it where there is less of an audience?" He gestured toward the witches and wizards in the waiting room, most of which were staring.

"Oh." Mariela and Lupin said in one voice.  
  
"Follow me, then."

He led them down the corridor and turned, heading to his personal office. There was really no other place in St. Mungo's that was so private, and no one would disturb them there. 

Septimus' office was not large, and made to look smaller than it actually was by the bookshelves jammed with medical texts, and papers stacked on every available surface. It was decorated largely with neutral shades of blue and green. The only furniture in the room—a desk and three chairs—was comfortably worn. 

"Have a seat," Septimus replied. As his two unexpected guests obeyed, he checked the door. The Anti-Eavesdropping Charm was in effect.  

He pulled up the third chair behind his desk, and sat down himself. 

"Now. You must forgive my rudeness—I am addressing Mr. Lupin, as I do not know him--but I will be very thankful if someone explains what in _seven hells is going on here. Preferably sooner rather than later. I assume this has to do with the attack on Severus a few days ago?"  
  
_

Both Lupin and Mariela nodded.

"Well?"  
  
Lupin turned to Mariela. "You go first," he said. "Consider it my apology."

The hard look on her face softened, just a smidge. "I accept the apology if you'll go first. I want to hear what it is you found out."  
  
Lupin looked about to argue politely, but then he noticed the look on Septimus' face. "Very well."  
  
He cleared his throat. "As I said, Severus and I once taught at Hogwarts. I left two years ago, but I returned to live in the area just this summer. Severus makes a potion for an…affliction of mine. As you know, he was attacked about a week ago in the Hogsmeade cemetery. My—cohort and I have been looking into the situation, researching possible witnesses and suspects, with the aid of Officer Chavez here. We thought we had found nothing, until this afternoon Severus' young apprentice, Miss Delacour, made a passing remark about an acquaintance of hers, a Mr. Anthony McKinnon."

_Where have I heard that name?_ Septimus thought. Surely it had not been very long ago…

Lupin continued. "Since none of our other options had worked, I decided to look into McKinnon. His family was killed by Death Eaters fifteen years ago."   
  
He placed the parchment he had been holding on Septimus' desk. "This is the official report. I asked one of my Auror friends to get it for me."  
  
Septimus snatched up the paper, his blue-gray eyes skimming the text. _Victims…Kevin McKinnon…Alice McKinnon…survived by son Anthony Gwydion McKinnon, age five._

His eyes widened as he read the end of the page. _Witness, Severus Snape." He glanced up sharply, his eyes meeting Lupin's, and then Mariela's._

  
"Severus was there?" he demanded hoarsely. He glanced at the date of the attack—it was the same night his son had come home in such a state of shock…the night that he had confessed…

"Yes," Lupin replied. "And I've been looking around for reports of Anthony McKinnon's mental state as well. Apparently he's suffered a few panic attacks in the past ten years, which means that the tragedy struck him much later on. That frequently happens. And about a month earlier, he returned to England for the first time in fifteen years, and met with Minister Fudge, making a request to have his parents' murder case reopened. It was turned down. I could not bring the paperwork, as I did not wish to get my colleague in more trouble than necessary."

"What are you suggesting? That this McKinnon is unbalanced in some way?" Septimus asked skeptically, although his heart rate increased considerably. "Panic attacks are not direct evidence of insanity, Mr. Lupin. Many people have them."  
  


Mariela opened her mouth to speak, but Lupin did not see. 

  
"I realize that," Lupin replied. "However, if my hypothesis is true, and if we suppose…if McKinnon were convinced somehow that Snape was responsible for his parents' deaths…that might well be motive for such an attack."

Septimus shut his eyes briefly, remembering the unconscious form on the stretcher—his son…

"There's more," Mariela said at last. "I've been canvassing the area around Hogsmeade, talking to the locals. And this afternoon I overheard a conversation between two young men—Mr. McKinnon and Mr. Lestrange. Lestrange said that he had been sent by his employer to deliver a message. I was too far away to read it, but McKinnon looked very pleased by it. His smile…" she shook her head. "He gave me chills. Then he said that it wouldn't be much longer—and then he mentioned something about 'fireworks'," she finished. 

"So he's the one," Septimus breathed, feeling the anger flowing through his veins. 

_What? On Severus' behalf? I thought you didn't care!_ An irritating voice in the back of his mind taunted. But his nightmare about his wife, and Severus' death still haunted him, and he leaned forward on the desk. _Wait—Lestrange, I know that name as well!_

"Technically, all we have to go on is a hypothesis," Mariela said with a sigh. "We have some evidence to back it up, but not enough. You couldn't arrest someone on this, even if the case were still open. And even the conversation I overheard would be thrown out, because I was going against my superior's orders to abandon the investigation."

Septimus glanced over at Mariela. "Did you say Lestrange?"  
  
"Yes," Mariela said slowly. "Why?"

"Because a few months ago, there was a fundraiser ball for St. Mungo's, in which Lucius Malfoy donated several thousand Galleons towards a new ward," Septimus replied, recalling the occasion. "He brought with him his assistant—_Mr. Loki Lestrange. And I had a patient named Anthony McKinnon nearly two weeks ago—I just remembered now. He asked me some rather odd questions about my family, come to think of it..."_

All three of them exchanged horrified looks.

"But that would mean—wait, what are we saying?" Mariela demanded. "Alright, so Lestrange knows both McKinnon and Malfoy. We don't know if Malfoy is involved, and I don't even know who he is. I've heard the name, though."

"He is from a very old and wealthy family," Septimus explained wearily. "Twenty years ago he was tried and released on the charge of being a Death Eater."   
  
"And what if it was true?" Mariela asked softly.  
  
"It was," Lupin responded.

"But I still don't see what that has to do with Severus!" Mariela exclaimed. "I mean, he isn't—"

She trailed off abruptly when she saw the grayish tone that Septimus' skin had taken. 

_"__Madre de Dios__," she murmured, her brown eyes wide._

"Don't you remember, Mariela?" Septimus asked quietly. "All those nights that he went out—he said it was with friends, not getting home until nearly dawn. I was such a fool—I told myself he was behaving normally for his age, that I had forgotten what it was to be nineteen. For awhile I tried to delude myself into thinking perhaps it was a girl," he said with a sad smile.

He felt as though his emotions were being wrenched out with pliers…he had never spoken of this to anyone…

"That night the McKinnons were attacked, I waited at home for Severus. I planned to tell him off, demand that he explain himself—but when he finally came in, he was white and shaking. He told me—everything, how his friends were Death Eaters, how he'd seen people tortured and killed. He even showed me his Mark. And I…I was furious. At the time, St. Mungo's was crowded with the victims of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Septimus scowled briefly, as though he loathed having to resort to a euphemism, resenting his own fear of the word.

"Myself and other healers were working day and night to clean up his mess, and I saw things done to people that I have never before seen—cruelty beyond all imagination. And I was full of righteous anger—how could _my_ son possibly be one of them? How could he have made this choice? And I was angry with myself, for not involving myself more, for being too much of a bloody coward to try to reach him. We had a flaming row, I won't mince words. Things were said that night that can never be forgiven. And the argument ended with my telling Severus that if he left my house, he was never welcome there again. And…he left."  
  
He sighed, as the weight of that terrible night was shifted out into the open. He blinked away the moisture in his eyes furiously…no, he couldn't break now!

"My cowardice spans many years," Septimus continued, as his face expressed the purest self-loathing. "Cowardice and pride, that is. I couldn't admit that I had made a mistake, that things could have been very different for both of us—even when I saw him in the hospital after he awakened, I convinced myself that he meant nothing to me. But of course, like all liars, I became entangled in my own web."

Silence reigned in the office, as both Mariela and Lupin took in the story.

  
"I never knew…that's why Severus would never speak of you," Lupin muttered.

  
Mariela, however, jumped to her feet. "You _idiot!" she shouted. "You're right, you __are a coward! How could you have kept this from us, all these years! My mother going mad because she didn't know why Severus wouldn't respond to her letters—"  
  
"Her _what?"_ Septimus demanded, but Mariela cut him off._

"And me, not knowing and having no way to find out—and how could you just throw him out like that?" she roared, her eyes blazing. "Don't tell me I wouldn't understand, Septimus, I have children, too!"

"I make no excuses for my actions that night, or after," Septimus responded, not looking at Lupin or Mariela. "There is nothing that I can say now."  
  
He stood from his desk. "But there _is_ something to be done. I won't be a coward any longer."  
  
"Oh, no you don't!" Mariela cried. "You can't face McKinnon alone!"  
  
"That would be abysmally foolish, though somewhat inconsistent with my record as a coward," Septimus replied with a slight smirk. "No, I intend to face something altogether more dangerous—my son. I will warn him about McKinnon."

Lupin stood as well. "Let me—"  
  
"No," Septimus interrupted. "It has to be me, don't you understand? I can't pretend that I don't love my son or that I don't care what happens to him any longer. I do. His life is in danger now, and if I can help to save it, then I will."  
  
His voice rang out firm and resolute in the small office. Mariela's face, previously a mask of anger, was now full of pride.

Lupin nodded slowly, considering. "That might be best," he remarked. "Someone has to warn Severus. While you do that, perhaps I might have a chat with Mr. Lestrange."  
  
"I'll go with you," Mariela announced.

"You have a family," Lupin said gently. "If Mr. Lestrange proves less than cooperative, it's better if we endanger as few lives as possible."  
  
"Which is why you'll need my help," Mariela pressed. "And I'll follow you no matter what, so you may as well have me along from the start."  
  
Lupin chuckled. "Severus is lucky to have such dedicated people, even if he doesn't know it," he said. "Very well, Mariela. Come with me. Dr. Snape, once you tell Severus, wait for us at the castle. Agreed?"  
  
"Agreed," replied Mariela and Septimus.

                                                            ****************************

"I'm glad you stopped by," Fleur greeted Anthony, leading him into the Great Hall. The night sky shone down on them from the enchanted ceiling. "I thought you 'ad left England!"  
  
"No, I've just been…looking up old friends," Anthony replied with a smile. Why was Fleur looking at him like that?  
  
Perhaps she wasn't. It might just be his imagination. He felt as though everyone was watching him…

"Are you all right, Anthony?"  
  
"Yes," he replied automatically. "Listen, Fleur, could you take me down to the dungeon again? I—I fancy another look, if you don't mind."  
  
Fleur frowned. "Did you leave something down there?"  
  
"Yes," Anthony shot back, grateful that Fleur herself had supplied the reason. At least now he wouldn't have to lie to Fleur.

  
Not that lying was so bad, really, compared to what he was about to do. He had spent the last week planning it with the aid of Lestrange and Malfoy, and the last few hours preparing for the confrontation.  
  
She turned from him, leading him down to the familiar basement, the one that had haunted his dreams for the past week…

"Is there anyone down here?" he asked. "I'd hate to get you in trouble again."  
  
"No," Fleur replied. "Professor Snape eez not 'ere—'e went to the 'ospital Wing for something."

"So he'll be back soon?"  
  
"Probably. Zat is why you 'ad better 'urry—"

But Fleur never finished her sentence.

_"Stupefy!"_

She landed on the hard stone floor, her silver-blond hair spilling across the dark stone. Bending down, Anthony dragged Fleur behind one of the student desks, just out of sight. To his surprise, he was not even out of breath. Amazing, really, how calm he was—

Just then a tall, lanky figure appeared in the doorway, obviously a man. He stepped into the light from the darkened hallway.

Anthony's eyes widened. _No—_

Then he smiled. This was working out better than he'd planned…now Snape would know just how he'd felt to lose someone…he removed the wand from his jacket pocket…

"Hello, Dr. Snape," he said coolly.

Dr. Snape looked up at him in shock. "McKinnon!" His angular features twisted in a snarl. "What have you done with Severus?"

"Nothing yet," Anthony replied with a grin. "But you'll see. In fact…you'll even help me."  
  
"What? You're out of your mind!" He pulled out his wand, but Anthony had already drawn his.

_"Imperio!"_

(A/N: It's out, it's out! OoTP is finally out! I know my background for Snape now conflicts with the canon a bit, but oh well…I'm still going to finish this story. Thanks to everyone for their interest—there's more to come, I promise.)


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Loki was bored. 

He'd been wandering around Hogsmeade ever since delivering Malfoy's final message to McKinnon. _Not that the red-haired prat told me what it said,_ Loki thought. He didn't feel like going back to London yet, not while there was a fight brewing nearby. He hated being stuck on the sidelines, unable to join in the fun. 

Hell, it didn't matter if it was a simple matter of decking a rowdy wizard in a pub or torturing some hapless Muggle. As far as he was concerned, most people underestimated violence for the sake of it. Even his parents had understood that. 

And, in the true spirit of the Lestrange family, Loki was itching for a fight. 

Glancing out the window of the Hog's Head, he gave an almighty yawn and stretched his arms above his head. A pretty, if somewhat seedy looking young witch was smiling in his direction. Loki responded with his own sly grin— 

A sudden humming noise issued from his satchel. His grin faded into a scowl, as he dug around in his bag for the mirror, and casting a wistful look back at the witch, dashed outside before the picture in the mirror could fully materialize. 

Cursing Lucius Malfoy's name even as it appeared before his eyes, Loki did his best not to swear at his employer. 

"I take it all is in readiness, Lestrange?" Malfoy asked, his self-satisfied smile even more obvious than usual. His gray eyes were glowing in anticipation. 

"Yeah, I gave our boy your info. What did you tell him, anyway?"  
  
"I merely sent him the last bit of evidence he would need. I had to send him along _somehow."_

Loki raked a hand through his black hair. "Well, you succeeded. He went straight off after he saw it."  
  
"Good, good. It shouldn't be long now, then" Malfoy's smile became even wider. 

"Looked pretty unbalanced, if you ask me," Loki said. "This could backfire, y'know—" 

"I have considered that already, Lestrange," Malfoy snapped. "Do you naturally assume that others are as foolish as yourself? If he is caught, there will be no direct evidence to connect him to me, and in any case, I doubt his ravings would be taken seriously. They'll send him off to Azkaban at the worst, but it is my belief he won't go willingly."  
  
"You mean he'll get himself killed?"  
  
"Precisely. You have destroyed the papers?"  
  
Loki froze. _Damn. I knew I forgot something._

"Lestrange?" Malfoy's voice rose. 

"I was just on my way to do that, sir—" 

"You mean you were loitering. Yes, go and do that now, while there is still time. I see you are becoming sloppy, Lestrange. I may need to remind you of _why_ loyalty and efficiency are such good qualities among the Dark Lord's servants." 

Through firm control over every one of his muscles, Loki succeeded in not trembling. Lucius Malfoy's idea of a 'reminder' made what McKinnon would do to Snape seem like a walk in the park. 

The image of his employer disappeared from the mirror, and Loki shoved it back into his satchel. It was time to go back to that blasted inn. He'd had his fill of that place, but there was no choice. Nothing could be left to connect McKinnon to the rest of them—and Malfoy had made it perfectly clear that if he did go down, he was taking Lestrange with him. 

_Damn, damn, damn!_

******************************** 

"Remus, may I ask you something?"  
  
"Of course," Remus replied, opening the door of the Three Broomsticks so that Mariela could step outside. 

They had traveled there by Floo Powder, lent graciously to them by one of the nurses. Most wizarding establishments had a special room set aside for patrons who arrived in that manner. It was slightly less awkward than someone simply appearing in the middle of a crowded room. 

_And invites far less trouble in the way of accidents,_ Remus thought wryly. 

Mariela stepped out onto the street, and Remus followed. 

"Why are we in Hogsmeade?" 

"Because that is where my home is," he replied. "And the last place you saw Lestrange. Before we begin to look for him, however, we must stop at my home."  
  
"Why?" 

"To get Snuffles." 

Mariela stopped dead in the middle of the street, nearly causing an elderly wizard carrying a very stuffed Gladrags bag to run into her. 

_"The dog?"_ she demanded. "Severus' life is in danger, and you want to bring your _dog_ along?" 

"It's difficult to explain, but Snuffles isn't a normal dog," Remus replied. He wondered how long he'd be able to get away with vague explanations where Mariela Chavez was concerned. It would be a bit difficult to explain, especially with Mariela being an officer of the Ministry, and Sirius being a convict—albeit a wrongly accused one.   
  
"Meaning what?"  
  
"There isn't time to explain it now," Remus said, "But he will be of assistance, I can promise you that."  
  
"Oh, all right. But if you're wrong" 

_Let's hope I'm not,_ Remus said, casting a sidelong glance at Mariela. From the look she was giving him, he didn't want to imagine her reaction. 

***************************** 

_What's that blasted Delacour girl gotten up to now?_ Severus thought as he stalked down the corridor to his dungeon. The door was wide open—perhaps it was Delacour finishing some extra work?  
  
Not likely, of course, but one could always hope. At worst it was probably some idiotic student with the false notion he could steal some ingredients for illicit potions. Although catching him or her (or them) in the act would be quite amusing, especially if it were the combination of Potter, Weasley and Granger. 

Slowing his pace deliberately, he attempted to peer through the doorwayhe saw one figure, a tall young man not in Hogwarts uniform, and another man— 

_Merlin's beard!_ Several other expletives flashed through his mind, far more colorful examples of his vocabulary skills. 

_It can't be! Father_

But it was. 

  
Septimus Snape was partially blocked by the young man's tall frame, but Severus could see his face. It was perfectly expressionless, as though he were not even aware that someone was facing him. 

And then he heard the laugh. The same laugh that had been haunting his dreams was now resounding in _his_ dungeon, _his_ sanctuary. The anger was building within him, white-hot and pure as fire. 

In that instant, he knew he was about to face his attacker. 

_What is Father doing here?_

Severus did not take the time to ponder. He dashed into the dungeon, wand at the ready. 

_"Stupef—"_

__

__The young man had been waiting for him, it seemed, for Severus' abrupt entrance had not seemed to startle him. He stepped behind Septimus, using him as a shield between them. 

Severus stared in disbelief, his lip curling menacingly. _"McKinnon!"_ he hissed. 

"Hello, Professor," McKinnon said conversationally. "I thought you would come here eventually. I was lucky enough to run into your father. He didn't really want to stay for our little meeting, but I was able to persuade him."  
  
Through all of this, Septimus had been staring straight ahead, his mouth set in a firm line. He was still alive, obviously, but he was enchanted. 

_Imperius Curse,_ Severus thought grimly. 

"If you wanted to speak to me, McKinnon, then do so," he snapped. "My father has nothing to do with us."  
  
"Oh, but he does," McKinnon replied, with a smile that was not altogether sane. "I know you aren't close to your father, but would you die for him? Would he die for you? As mine was willing to die to keep me safe from you?" 

_"What?"_ Severus exploded. "What the devil are you on about, boy?"  
  
"Malfoy told me everything I need to know." 

_Of course._ It all hit Severus with painful, blinding clarity. He should have seen it before. Malfoy despised him, there was no length he would not go to. No matter what the casualties were. And Merlin knew he wasn't above getting someone else to do the dirty work for him. Even if it meant misleading someone else. 

"You were misinformed," he replied as calmly as he could. "Malfoy—"  


"Not another word!" McKinnon shouted, as he seized Septimus roughly about the neck, pointing his wand at the older man's temple. "Or I swear it, the old man dies!" 

************************* 

Septimus had been floating peacefully, his limbs gone slackno pain, no fear, no worry. Only this young man telling him to stare ahead, not to move or speakhe could hear snatches of someone talkingthey sounded agitated, and he wondered why 

This must be the Imperius Curse, he thought idlyfunny, it didn't feel so terrible for an Unforgivable Curse. He'd studied them, as all Healers had to in their training. What had his instructor said? Wait till the opponent let his guard down, and when one felt the curse slacken, break away as though from the tide of the ocean 

"Mininformed" 

_Severus? Severus, is that you?_  
  
And then he felt a painful sensation around the middle of his head, and realized that something was pressed against it. The curse was slackening, the McKinnon boy's focus was waning. 

  
Septimus felt himself beginning to break free; it wouldn't be long now 

"the old man dies!" 

_What? Oh, no you don't, boy!_

"Who are you calling 'old man'?" Septimus demanded suddenly, turning his head to face his captor. 

In response, McKinnon's grip around his throat increased, and he found himself having difficulty breathing. 

  
"Severus," he gasped. "Tried—warn you—run!" 

"He won't," McKinnon said. "Will you, Professor? Would you leave your _innocent_ father to me? Hmgiven your track record, I wouldn't be terribly surprised if you did." 

"Release him," Severus commanded. 

Septimus was still struggling—he was far from weak, but this boy's grip was like a vice. His blue-gray eyes met his son's black ones, and he could stand it no longer. 

"Severus, I'm sorry," he choked out. 

In his son's face, he could read nothingnot anger, not surprise 

Not forgiveness. 

"I warn you, don't speak," McKinnon informed him. "Either one of you. Now, we need a quiet place to discuss this. What about that lovely Shrieking Shack?" 

He pressed the wand further into Septimus' temple, causing him to wince. "And I do suggest you make your decision quickly, before I grow impatient." 

***************************** 

_I feel like I'm in an old-fashioned Muggle detective novel,_ Mariela thought, as Remus' dog Snuffles bounded ahead of them, sniffing at the ground and occasionally the air. 

_Using bloodhounds to find the trailall right, so Snuffles isn't a bloodhound, but it still sounds like those novels that Septimus used to read—Sherlock something or other. I always thought that was such a silly name, and such dull books—he didn't even use magic!_

__

__"So," Mariela said as she and Remus continued along the streets of Hogsmeade. "We're going to walk all over the town while your dog sniffs things?"  
  
"Trust me. He can find Lestrange," Remus replied, not meeting her eyes. "His sense of smell is uncanny, he knows every scent here. All we have to do is—" 

His arm was suddenly jerked forward, and he had to hold onto the dog's lead for dear life. 

"—follow him," he finished blandly, trying to assert his legs to the abrupt change in speed. Mariela jogged alongside him, looking somewhat amused at his predicament even through her frustration. 

"We're heading for the inn!" she cried, as straggling shoppers and random witches and wizards were forced to dive out of their way. "And for the record, this isn't the way we usually conduct investigations!"  
  
"No?" Remus grinned, as Snuffles slowed down. "I thought we were remarkably subtle."  
  
"You know, I _really_ ought to hex you" Mariela replied, and she wasn't entirely joking. 

"Save that for Mr. Lestrange," Remus cautioned her. 

"Believe me, I will," Mariela replied, setting her jaw firmly. "This is where I saw McKinnon before. Do you think—" 

"Is that him?" Remus asked, pointing. A tall, dark-haired man was just coming out of the door, looking rather pleased with himself. Snuffles had stopped completely, standing ramrod straight. His pale eyes were fixed on the young man in the doorway.  
  
"Finally," Mariela said, and stepped forward. Remus grabbed her arm just before she charged. 

Reaching down, he carefully released Snuffles from the lead, and the Animagus bounded directly into Lestrange's path. 

"Move, you stupid mutt!" the young man shouted, drawing his wand. Immediately, Snuffles' paws connected directly with his chest, and he fell to the ground, swearing. 

"Move along," Mariela said in her most official tone, turning to the witches and wizards that were beginning to stare. "Nothing to see here."  
  
"So sorry about that," Remus said airily, as he approached Lestrange—who was now effectively pinned beneath Snuffles. "Really, I can't take him anywhere."  
  
"Get your dog off of me!" Lestrange hissed, sounding a bit choked. 

"Sure thing," Mariela said, stepping up beside Remus. "Just tell us why your boss wants Severus Snape dead." 

"You're just going to interrogate me here? In the middle of the street?"  


"Well, that would be entertaining, but not terribly practical," Remus said with a smile. He picked up Lestrange's wand, which had fallen to the ground when Snuffles had knocked him over. "Why don't we have a nice chat instead?" 

After dragging Loki Lestrange off the ground (somewhat grudgingly done by Mariela, who looked as though she would rather have stepped on him), they forced him to the back of the inn. As night fell, the shadows made them all but invisible. 

"Much more private, don't you think?" she asked pleasantly. 

************************* 

A few evening stars were just beginning to make their appearance in the sky as Severus lead McKinnon and Septimus across the school grounds, toward the Whomping Willow.   
  
McKinnon still held onto Septimus, keeping the wand leveled at his back. One Stunning Spell in the back of the skull could be fatal, if done at close enough range—and Septimus was more than close enough.  
  
Although Severus resented his father, he hardly wished for him to die. Especially for something that had nothing to do with him. 

_But that's the way of it, isn't it? I'm surprised that this doesn't happen more often. How many victims come back to avenge their loved ones against the Death Eaters? _

__

__Oh, some did, Severus knew. But few lived to tell the tale. And this boy was about to land himself in severe trouble, if Severus knew anything about the workings of Lucius Malfoy's mind. 

"McKinnon, you fool—" he began, but the young man was beyond reason. Severus knew that look well, it was the same sort of triumph he had felt the last time _he_ was in the Shrieking Shack. 

_Oh, how I detest irony._

"I told you, keep moving and keep quiet," McKinnon snapped. "I know that you know the way in—you've been there before, when Sirius Black tried to break into Hogwarts. I read all about it. Fudge has the file—and it's not a very flattering portrayal of _you_, I must say."  
  
For his part, Septimus himself was silent. It was too dark now to read the expression on his face, but it probably reflected nothing of the feelings within, if there were any. 

_He tried to apologize beforethe look in his eyes_

What did McKinnon have planned? Severus couldn't delude himself. Anthony McKinnon was dangerously unstable. And the fact that he had been blatantly misinformed was _not_ a point in Severus' favor. 

_McKinnon, if only you knew from whom you were taking advice_

__

__But what of his father? Severus might be able to persuade McKinnon to put a Memory Charm on him, and let him go. It was a slim hope, but the only one he had to cling to. 

They had reached the Whomping Willow now. There would be no turning back after this point. 

Severus heard Fang barking in the distance, and he had to fight the urge to shout for assistance from Hagrid, surprise McKinnon and— 

But he couldn't. Not with his father's life at risk. And McKinnon would kill, he knew that madness all too well. 

Silently damning his own sentimentality, he seized a large twig from the ground, as the Willow's nearest branch struck the ground less than a foot from him. 

Squinting in the light from his own wand, he prodded that familiar knot with the twig, and the Willow stopped abruptly. 

  
"This way," he said gravely. 

***************************** 

The deep red wine sparkled in the firelight, and Lucius Malfoy swirled his glass about, watching the light dance on the surface of the shining liquid. 

It was nearly time. He could feel it. McKinnon would do his part, Malfoy had seen to that. It was rather a shame. The boy was, after all, otherwise intelligent. But he was very, very unstable, and had been long before he had fallen into the designs of Lucius Malfoy. 

Severus Snape was not loyal to their cause. And soon, he would be beyond the protection of even Albus Dumbledore. 

To the rest of the world, he pretended that Snape was someone to be highly thought of, a true Slytherin. And he had been, once. Malfoy had rather liked the man, much as he had ever liked anyone, when Snape had first joined their cause. But there came a point when he realized that Snape was no longer truly one of themhis loyalties had shifted. And the Dark Lord himself did not believe Malfoy's warnings. 

  
It hardly mattered now. Snape would be gone forever from this realm in a few hours, and damn McKinnon. 

_As long as that idiot Lestrange doesn't make a mess of things._

One could only hope things went according to plan. 

***************************** 

_Everything_ was going according to plan. 

  
Anthony held tight to Dr. Snape's sleeve, while pressing his wand into the older wizard's back. Ahead of them, Professor Snape suddenly made a motion with his hand, and led them into a dusty living room that looked as though it hadn't been used since it was built.  
  
They were inside the Shrieking Shack. 

All of the furniture was covered in drop cloths and a thin layer of dust, and most of the woodwork seemed somewhat less than stable. The windows were boarded, blocking out even the starlight in the night sky. 

"Upstairs," Anthony ordered. Soon it would be over.and his parents could rest. _He_ could rest. 

_Soon_

"It isn't too late," Dr. Snape said, without turning around to look at Anthony. "Whatever wrong has been done to you can be amended, but not like this."  
  
Anthony shoved Dr. Snape to the ground violently. Professor Snape started to charge toward him, but he held his wand firmly in the professor's direction. 

_"You know nothing of the wrongs that have been done!" _he roared. "Your pathetic attempt at intervention has been heard and noted, Healer. Now get up, and keep moving. I want to get this over with." 

"Get _what_ over with, precisely?" Professor Snape asked icily, as he led the way upstairs. "You have been remarkably vague on that subject." 

"Patience, Professor," Anthony said with a wide grin. "You'll find out soon enough." 

Professor Snape led them into a bedroom at the back of the house, or rather what was once a bedroom. Now the furniture was little more than splinters. 

_Perfect._

"Now," Anthony said brightly, as the three wizards entered the room. "Shall we have a bit of mood lighting?"  
  
_"Lumos Incendium."_

Instantly, the torches in the walls glowed dimly, but they were enough to see by—and an improvement over wandlight. 

"Now," Anthony continued, "For some proper accommodations."  
  
With that, he snapped his fingers, and chains dropped down from the ceiling, entwining themselves around Professor Snape's wrists. 

  
"No! Are you mad?!" Dr. Snape cried out. Anthony turned to him, chuckling. 

"Mad? No, of course not, Healerthis was all very rationally planned out. Except for you, I must confess. You have served your purpose in getting your son herebut your usefulness is somewhat outlived."  
  
Dr. Snape made a move toward his son, but Anthony stopped him with a spell, the older wizard's feet stopped in their tracks. 

"Don't hurt him," Professor Snape hissed, from his place behind Anthony. 

  
Anthony laughed outright. "Can that be _compassion_ I'm hearing from you, Professor? For your dear Father? I loved my father, too, you know. And it's because of you—and your _kind_—that he is no more."  
  
"Your father—" Professor Snape began, but that was as far as he got. 

_"ENOUGH!"_ he screamed. He turned to Dr. Snape, his eyes wild. "If you have anything to say to each other, I suggest you do so now."  
  
"Severus, I—" Dr. Snape said. 

"I know," Professor Snape replied, looking at his father solemnly. 

"Time's up," Anthony interrupted cheerfully.   
  
A blast of yellow light shot from his wand, catching Dr. Snape directly in the chest. The force of the blow carried him backward, and sent him crashing through the railing at the top of the stairs to the dusty floor below.  


When he turned back to his victim, he was pleased to see that Professor Snape was white with rage—or fear.   
  
"Now," he said casually. "Where were we?" 

**************************** 

Loki stared a little cross-eyed at the witch's wand, which was pointed directly between his eyes. 

"Tell us everything you know or I'll hex you until you can talk out of your—" 

"Calm down, Mariela," the werewolf, Remus Lupin replied. Loki stared in disbelief, as well as a healthy amount of disgust. It was bad enough to be cornered like this, even worse to have a _werewolf_ intervening. 

"I _am_ calm," Mariela replied. "He'd deserve it. Start talking, Lestrange."  
  
"About what?" Loki asked, affecting innocence. "The weather? The prospects of England's Quidditch team?" 

Mariela lunged at him, but Lupin held her back. The dog—he'd heard Lupin refer to it as 'Snuffles', looked almost as though he were laughing. 

_I wonder if dogs do laugh? With that one, I wouldn't be surprised._

__

"Let's save the violence for the moment," he said, as he turned to Loki. 

"This is how the arrangement works," Lupin said coolly. "You tell us what dealings you have with a young wizard named Anthony McKinnon, and what those dealings have to do with Severus Snape. And you tell us _now."_

"And if I don't?" Loki asked, arching one dark eyebrow. 

"If you don't," Lupin echoed harshly, "then I let Mariela and Snuffles do whatever they please to you. And I can assure you that you _won't_ like that." 

Both Mariela and Snuffles were glaring at him now, and Loki swallowed hard. Malfoy was going to kill him. 

"My employer wouldn't like that, I should think." 

"Lucius Malfoy? No, he wouldn't," Mariela replied, sounding as though she had to pry her teeth apart to talk. "Of course, we _could_ just go and ask him—with you as your escort, of course." 

"He'd have my life," Loki replied quietly, serious for possibly the first instance in his entire existence. "To say nothing of what he'd do before it was over." 

"How can I put this delicately?" Mariela wondered aloud. Then her brown eyes narrowed. "I don't give a damn." 

Loki's eyes darted aroundhe couldn't overpower both of them without his wandespecially not the dogno one was nearby 

_Oh, hell_

"McKinnon's not here anymore," he snapped. "Why aren't you after him?" 

"We are," Lupin replied. "You're just the easiest route." 

Loki smirked. "I'd watch what you say, _werewolf._"  
  
"Werewolf?" Mariela asked incredulously. 

Lupin suddenly seized Loki by the collar, and slammed him against the wall.   
  
"That's right, Lestrange, I _am_ a werewolf," he snarled. "And I will bite you if you don't tell us everything we need to know. I have precious little time for your games. Talk _now_." 

"All right, all right!" Loki could only imagine what Malfoy would do to him if he were turned into a werewolfbut he had a feeling it would culminate with his pelt decorating the Malfoy Manor. 

He exhaled furiously. "I was sort of a go-between for McKinnon and Mr. Malfoy. See, Malfoy was feeding McKinnon information about the death of his parents. They were—" 

"Killed by Death Eaters," Lupin finished quietly, still holding Loki to the wall. "Keep talking." 

"Well, anyway, Malfoy had McKinnon convinced that it was Snape who did the actual killing."  
  
"Why would he do that?" Mariela asked from behind Lupin. 

"Doesn't care for the bloke," Loki replied. "Actually, he hates himthinks he's not really on their side, but he can't prove it. So he convinced McKinnon that Snape killed his parentswasn't that hard, the lad wasn't exactly stable when he came to us in the first place. And now he's gone off on the rampage, or something." 

"Gone where?" Lupin asked. 

Loki sighed. "Hogwarts, where else? He's going to finish what he started in the graveyard." 

"The grave—" Mariela began, and then let out a stream of swear words, both Spanish and English. 

Lupin, however, remained cool. "Then that's where we are going." 

"We? You can't—" 

Lupin snapped his fingers, and thin cords bound Lestrange's hands behind his back. 

"I believe you'll find that I can," he said pleasantly, and turned to Mariela. 

"So, you're a werewolf," Mariela said, raising one eyebrow. 

Loki blinked. _She didn't know? Oh, bloody hell, this should be interesting_

"Ermyes," Lupin replied. 

"Huh." Mariela considered. "You don't hear that every day." Then she seemed to snap out of it. "Let's go. We can talk about this later." 


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

(A/N: First of all, I want to apologize to all my faithful readers for the long waits between chapters. I'm just grateful that there are still people reading this, and I want to thank you all for your patience and interest. Senior thesis took over my life. Now it's over, and I'm beginning my foray into the real world of working. I _will_ finish this, I promise.)

It was useless.

Severus pulled at the chains binding him to the ceiling, but it did no good. It was a rather cruel irony that he now found himself in the same position as Anthony McKinnon's father fifteen years before.

"Alone at last," McKinnon remarked. His little jibes were really becoming intolerable. It was one thing to gloat, but in Severus' opinion, one could at least be original about it.

"So we are," Severus replied. His thoughts flickered to his father—was he still alive? If so, he was probably injured…and he had gotten hurt trying to warn Severus.

_Why, Father? Why did you come back?_

Right then, Severus made up his mind. He would survive whatever McKinnon did to him, and he would live to ask his father why he had come back. There were no questions about it. Once a Snape got an idea in his head, he stuck with it.

"So," McKinnon said, stepping closer to Severus, "Did you make him beg for his life, Death Eater scum?"  
  
"I suppose you mean your father," Severus replied. "No, _I_ did not. He did beg, of course, but for your life, not his own. I wonder what he would make of what you have done with his gift?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Severus had the distinct impression he'd made a mistake.

_"Crucio!"_

He was right.

The pain was blinding. Severus thought he might have screamed, but he could not be sure. When the curse subsided, he found himself twitching involuntarily, though he did his best to control it. If he had to die, it would be with at least some semblance of dignity. Not that he intended to die.

"Anything else to say?" McKinnon asked, using the end of his wand to lift Severus' chin.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Severus spat. "You think that I killed your parents? You are wrong. The killer is none other than your mentor, Lucius Malfoy—"

McKinnon responded with a vicious backhand that left Severus' head spinning. The young man was very strong indeed.

"Shut up!" McKinnon roared.

Severus' jaw throbbed, and he turned his face back to McKinnon. Feeling the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, he spoke again.

"You are making a very foolish error, boy."

He would not, _could not_ allow his fear to show. The situation was not enviable—he was at the mercy of a very unstable young man, and his father…who knew whether he had even survived? A spell like that in combination with a long fall was a trial for any wizard, and Septimus wasn't young anymore.

If only there was some way of reasoning with the boy, of making him see the truth! But young people only saw what they wanted to. That had been Severus' own experience, as well as a trait he had noticed in his students.  
  
McKinnon leveled his wand at Severus, his face a mask of hatred.

"We shall see. _Crucio!"_

_====================_

"Are you certain?" Mariela asked, peering down at the house-elf standing in the main entrance of Hogwarts. Behind her, Remus stood holding his wand to Loki's back. Snuffles shifted his feet impatiently beside her. The stars stood out like diamonds in the night sky.

The house-elf nodded. "Yes, miss. Healer Snape arrived a few hours ago, and has not been seen since."  
  
"Maybe they decided to have a family reunion or some such," Loki spoke up in a bored drawl. "So you might as well release me—"

"Dream on," Remus snapped, his patience at last wearing thin. "Once we see that they're safe, then we'll consider it."  
  
He glanced at the house-elf. "Would you mind escorting us to the dungeon? I take it you remember me?"  
  
"Yes, sir. You was a teacher here. Ibby remembers you."  
  
"Very good, Ibby. Lead on."

House-elves were very useful, Mariela decided as they started after the little creature. Not just in their housekeeping skills, but in their ability not to question things. Such as why they had a bound Ministry official and large black dog with them, or why they needed to see Professor Snape and not Professor Dumbledore.

_Which would have been somewhat difficult to explain. Not to mention time-consuming._

Finally, they reached the dungeon. Remus held his wand at the ready, and shoved Loki in front of them.   
  
"After you," he said politely. Loki's eyes narrowed, and he stepped into Snape's classroom.

"Ugh," Mariela remarked, glancing around the dungeon. "I must say, I love what Severus _hasn't_ done with the place."

Snuffles barked his agreement.

"Severus!" Remus called. "Severus, are you here?" He turned to Mariela. "Check the office. I'll secure our friend here to a chair for now. Snuffles will watch him."  
  
"Right."  
  
While Remus went about fastening Loki to one of the chairs, Mariela strode through the rows of student desks, feeling as though her feet weren't going nearly fast enough. The office door was wide open, and the torches were lit. Surely Severus was in there.

"Septimus? Severus?" she inquired, poking her head in the door. Her stomach dropped.

No one was there. The furniture was all in place, or at least, nothing was knocked over. Mariela had no idea how it would look normally. The torches were lit, however, which struck her as odd.

"Remus, he isn't here!" Mariela cried in frustration, turning to go back. Remus seemed to be crouched down, looking at something on the floor underneath one of the tables.

"Remus?"  
  
"I think you'd better come and look at this," Remus said tonelessly.

Frowning, Mariela headed to where Remus was kneeling—and gaped at what she saw.

_"Oh, infierno!"_

"Oh look," Loki remarked from his chair. "We found someone."

_"Ennervate."_

_==============================_

Slowly, painfully, Fleur was coming out of the darkness. She was suddenly aware of every single bruise she had acquired when she fell.

_Why did I fall? Oh, yes…someone attacked me…someone…_

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a low groan.

"Easy now," a vaguely familiar male voice was saying.   
  
"Where is 'e?" Fleur asked hoarsely.

"Don't talk," came an unfamiliar woman's voice. "Here, drink this."  
  
Fleur was dimly aware of being maneuvered into a sitting position, and felt the taste of cool water against her lips. She drank gratefully.

_"Merci,"_ she murmured, and her surroundings finally came back into focus. Leaning over her was Professor Lupin, and a petite dark-haired woman.

"What 'appened?"  
  
"I was hoping you could enlighten us," Professor Lupin said gently. "You know me, of course, but this woman is Mariela Chavez of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Mariela, this is Fleur Delacour, Severus' assistant."  
  
"Pleased to meet you," Fleur murmured.

"How do you feel?" Professor Lupin asked.  
  
Fleur groaned once more. "I feel like someone 'it me weeth a Stunning Spell," she replied.

"Who?" Mariela Chavez asked.

A good question. Who _was_ it? She remembered Hogsmeade, then coming back to the castle with….

"Anthony McKinnon," she said softly. "But eet can't be—'e is my friend!"  
  
"Did he seem odd to you?" Professor Lupin asked.

"Now zat you mention it, yes," Fleur replied, remembering Anthony's skittish behavior earlier that evening. Had it really been the same evening? It felt like it had happened days ago. If only her head didn't ache like this…

"I remember 'e was acting strangely. But why would 'e attack me?" she asked.

"He must have wanted you out of the way," Mariela responded. "Can you stand? Do you know where he went?"  
  
"Slow down, Mariela," Professor Lupin cautioned sternly. "Don't rush her."  
  
"Sorry," Mariela replied, temporarily contrite. "But Severus could be in danger, to say nothing of Septimus—"  
  
"I don't know where 'e is now," Fleur said.

"Listen to me, Miss Delacour," Mariela said, leaning in closer to Fleur. "Severus Snape is my friend, and now he and his father are probably at the mercy of your Mr. McKinnon. If you can remember _anything_, please share it!"

"I don't," Fleur said despairingly. "I don't! I'm sorry!"  
  
_Just a minute. Listen to yourself, Delacour. Since when do you whine to anyone for anything? _

That was when the dog barked. Fleur hadn't even seen him at first, but now she wondered how she could have missed him. He was massive, his eyes flickering in the torchlight. He was sitting next to someone seated in a chair in the corner.

Professor Lupin glanced at the dog, and then back at Mariela and Fleur.   
  
"Mr. Lestrange," he said, getting up from his kneeling position walking slowly over to the person on the chair—which Fleur could see now was actually a dark-haired young man.

"What?" Lestrange asked, raising one dark eyebrow.

"You know where they are. We've already done the interrogation bit once, so why not save me the trouble?"  
  
"Because I'd be killed?"  
  
"We'll risk it," Mariela said, standing as well. She glared at Lestrange. "I don't have any problem with violence, if it gets me what I need."  
  
Lestrange smiled. "My kind of woman. Be good to me, love."

Fleur's eyes darted from Professor Lupin to Mariela, and then to Mr. Lestrange. Violence, though probably entertaining, wouldn't help the situation. And if Professor Snape was truly in danger from Anthony—though she still could not fathom why—then she was partly responsible. After all, she had let him in.

No one in the Delacour family had ever shirked their responsibilities. And Fleur was not about to be the first.

She stood up—rather too quickly, as the white spots in her vision demonstrated. Hoping that she hadn't swayed visibly, she fixed Lestrange with a cold stare.

"A dose of Veritaserum might do the trick," she said levelly.

"But we don't have—" Mariela began, but Lupin cut her off.

"Time," he finished, winking. He had caught on.

"Oh, I can make some easily," Fleur replied. "All I need eez some eel juice, rat tails…"

Lupin poked around at the items on Professor Snape's desk. "Ah, and here are some other ingredients—lacewings, crushed dung beetles, and—oh, live spiders!"  
  
It was working. Lestrange was looking more horrified by the second.  
  
Mariela held up a jar containing a specimen floating in green ooze. "Whatever this thing is…"

"And zome of zat magical cleaner for good measure," Fleur finished, as Lupin tossed it to her from the desk.

"That will kill me!" Lestrange cried, panicked.

"You might be more useful that way!" Mariela said cheerfully. "Come on, Loki, where's your sense of adventure?"  
  
The three of them advanced on Lestrange's bound figure, and he swallowed hard. 

"The Shrieking Shack. McKinnon took Professor Snape to the Shrieking Shack. His father wasn't part of the deal, though, I don't know if he's there or not."  
  
"Good. Let's go," Mariela said, turning and heading for the door.

"One of us should stay with him," Lupin replied, pointing to Loki.

"I will," Fleur replied, surprised at the calm assurance in her voice.

"Are you sure?" Lupin looked at her with concern in his weathered face. "You were just rather brutally assaulted—"  
  
"I am fine now," Fleur replied, smiling at him. "I can 'andle Mr. Lestrange."  
  
Lupin nodded. "All right." He turned to Mariela. "Let's go."  
  
"Right," Mariela said. "Is Snuffles going with us?"  
  
"He is," Lupin replied, glancing at the dog. "Shall we?"

Snuffles barked, and bounded out the door. Mariela and Lupin followed, bringing up the rear.

"Remus?" Fleur heard Mariela ask, from out in the hallway. 

"Yes?" he responded.

"Er, how do we get _into_ the Shack?"  
  
Lestrange rolled his eyes. "Snape's doomed."

========================

Anthony surveyed his prisoner with a grim kind of satisfaction. And yet taking his revenge had not made him feel the way he thought he would.

_Am I doing it wrong, Dad? I know taking Healer Snape prisoner was wrong, but I didn't know what else to do. Will killing Severus Snape destroy me as well?  
  
Help me, Dad!_

"Can't you even admit it, you bloody coward?" Anthony hissed, walking around Snape's now limp form. He hung loosely from the chains, but he was still breathing. "After all this time I've spent tracking you, the least you could do is give me the truth for my trouble."  
  
Snape's head came up slowly, his black eyes fixing on him with contempt. "Then you have wasted your time. I did not kill your father, Malfoy lied."  
  
"Why would he lie?" Anthony asked in spite of himself.

"He wishes me dead. Why else? And what better way to make sure the job was done than by finding someone with an emotional interest?"  
  
Anthony narrowed his eyes, glaring at Snape. "You must think I'm some kind of fool," he said softly.

"Oh, I _know_ you're a fool, McKinnon," Snape retorted, glaring at him through the strands of greasy black hair that hung in his face. "As was your father, for begging me to spare your life. I'm sure he would be very _proud_ to see what you have done with it."  
  
_"SHUT UP!"_ Anthony screamed. The sound was ripped from his throat, as though it were an entity all its own. "You killed him!"

"I did not kill your father, and killing me will not bring him back!" Snape was relentless.

Anthony backed into the corner, almost as though he were afraid of Snape. He sank to the ground, his face in his hands.

_Dad, help me! He plays with my mind…as he did with yours. Did he let you think he'd save me? _

Suddenly his head snapped up, and he stood once more. A calm smile flickered across his mouth.

"You think this is how I pictured my life?" he asked coolly. "That I planned everything from the time I was five to this moment? I didn't. I wanted a normal life, and I would have had one, if not for you. Oh, I know you acted on orders. The Dark Lord's orders. I can't take him out, but you are another matter. People like you make me ill—playing both sides for your own personal gain, not giving a damn who gets hurt in the process. Well, I am someone who was hurt by what you did. And now you're paying for it."  
  
He paused, aware of Snape's eyes on him as he continued to speak. "Strange, isn't it? If not for you, this might have turned out very differently. In a sense…you _created_ me. I wanted to take my revenge on you before I even knew your name. Is this some kind of cosmic joke?"

Snape didn't answer at first. His face was impassive, almost unreadable in the dim light. But his voice was tight with some restrained emotion as he spoke.

"The real humor here is solely ironic, McKinnon. It was too late for your father, but he begged me to see that you were spared--and I did! I closed the bedroom door just as Malfoy killed him. Then I convinced the others that you weren't worth the trouble. Would it be worth my explaining why? I doubt you would listen, and in any case you've proven yourself impervious to logic. And reason, for that matter."  
  
Anthony stepped closer to Snape, so that he could feel his captive's ragged breath warm on his face. "Assuming for ten seconds that I believed you, why would you do that?"  
  
"Do what? Explain?"  
  
"No!" Anthony cried, feeling what was left of his self-control ebbing away. "Why would you save me? There was nothing in it for you--I was nothing to you!"

Snape's gaze didn't flicker. "You're right. You were nothing to me. I saved you for me, to prove that I wasn't like Malfoy. Take that as you will."

==================================

If Mariela had tried to imagine how she was going to spend her evening, she probably would never have come close. Creeping through a dusty tunnel at night with a bare acquaintance and his dog after two of her friends, both of whom were being held hostage by a mentally unstable young wizard...well, it was hardly a standard evening activity.

"Are we there yet?" she hissed to Remus, whose outline was only partly visible in the dim light. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how childish she sounded.

_I've been hanging around my daughters for too long..._

Remus glanced back at her, his face showing no trace of amusement. "Just about."

As far as she was concerned, she never wanted to see a Whomping Willow tree ever again. Mariela had seen a good deal in her time working for the Ministry, but in her opinion, plants should never move of their own accord. It always led to trouble. Her husband's work with Devil's Snare had--

_Gabriel._

With a pang, she remembered her husband, who was probably wondering where on earth she was. He'd gotten used to her coming home late some nights, but he would worry. He always did. That was what made rushing off to risk one's life for a friend so frightening. There was the chance that neither she nor Remus would come back. That she might never see her daughters again...

_There's no reason for that to happen!_ Her mind raged. _There are two of us, three including the dog_. _We can take down one crazy wizard...we just have to be careful in how we do it, is all._

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Snuffles...well, snuffling. He was making an obvious effort to be quiet, which was unusual in a dog. Mariela glanced ahead, and saw patch of dim light that seemed to grow ever stronger as they moved forward. It took her a split second to realize that it was coming from a hole somewhere above, and the passage floor seemed to be gradually getting higher.

"We're here," Remus whispered, his face gray in the light. "I'll go first, then Snuffles, and then you, Mariela. All right?"  
  
He sounded so certain of himself that she did not question him. Nodding, she stepped back as Remus pulled himself up, and Snuffles followed--with agility not common in most of the dogs that Mariela had met. Remus offered her his hand, but Mariela had already pulled herself up.

Immediately, she buried her nose and mouth in her hands. The dust was incredible--her mother would have had an absolute fit at the state of this house. Taking a step forward, she nearly tripped over a piece of broken furniture. Remus took hold of her arm, and helped to steady her.

"This is the Shrieking Shack?" she whispered hoarsely. 

"It is. Come now, we must go quietly. They have to be here...most likely upstairs."  
  
"What about the basement?" she asked.

"There isn't one," he replied. "Hurry!"

The wandlight wasn't much help, but it was certainly better than nothing. The odd trio made their way into the foyer, ever watchful of any traps or attacks. As far as Mariela could see, their biggest danger down here was choking on the dust.

She stopped short, looking at the floor. "They're here, all right."  
  
"How can you tell?" Remus asked.

"The footprints in the dust. They were made recently...._Dios!_"

"Wha--" Remus began, but trailed off as she held her wand up higher. The light showed them a pile of broken wood at the bottom of the stairs, and sprawled out on top of it--blue robes, black hair streaked with silver-grey---

Wordlessly, the two rushed to the fallen wizard, unsure of he were still alive. Remus put two fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse. 

"He's alive," he said after an agonizing pause. From the look on his face, he was as relieved as she was. "I don't like the look of that arm, though--I think it's broken. We need to wake him up and get him to safety. He might have seen what happened to Severus."

_"Ennervate,"_ Mariela said, holding her wand in front of her.

Septimus stirred, and groaned. Quickly Mariela put a hand over his mouth.

"Shh, it's us. Septimus, we need to be quiet. Do you understand?"  
  
He nodded, and Mariela took her hand away. Septimus tried to sit up, and immediately grimaced in pain.

"Are you hurt?"  
  
"Severus," Septimus replied, ignoring the question. "McKinnon's got him upstairs--I tried to stop him, but...the boy's mad! He's going to torture my son, he might already be…"  
  
But the Healer could not bring himself to finish his sentence, and the pain of his arm was only secondary to his distress for his son.  
  
"We'll stop him," Remus said. "That's a promise, Healer. If you don't mind..." He touched Septimus' broken arm with his wand, creating a splint.

"Snuffles, stay with the Healer," Remus ordered. "Mariela and I will get Severus. Both of you, be ready to move quickly. The most important thing is getting Severus out of here safely." He glanced over at Mariela. "Remember, this is not the time to seek retribution."  
  
Mariela hesitated for a moment, then nodded. She would have loved to break McKinnon's neck for this crime, but Remus was right--that was not the point.

_"Vamanos,"_ she said quietly.

========================================

"What was that?" McKinnon demanded, glaring in the direction of the door. His auburn hair, now damp with perspiration, shone in the dim wandlight.

Severus followed McKinnon's gaze, but saw nothing. _Had_ someone come to his rescue? Probably not. Severus was not the kind of man others risked their lives for, nor did he ever expect to be. He was respected, but not liked--and certainly not with that kind of devotion. Believing this was not self-pity, merely a reflection of the truth. And Severus Snape never allowed himself to hide from the truth.

"If you're going to finish me off, McKinnon, then do so," he snapped. "Just remember that you have the wrong man. Can you live with that, if you're ever lucid enough to understand what you have done?"

McKinnon held a jagged piece of broken glass to Severus' throat. "Maybe I can. I suppose we'll find out one way or another, won't we? Or at least, _ I _will."

The glass had barely scratched his throat when McKinnon dropped it suddenly, his hand shaking. He was staring at something out the window, his brown eyes wide.

Severus strained, but couldn't see a blasted thing. His back was to the window, and he could not turn his head properly to see what had terrified McKinnon so.

"Aurors," he murmured. "How could they have found out--"  
  
"Malfoy!" Severus replied, realizing that this was his last chance of reasoning with the boy. "You were set up, as I believe the expression goes."  
  
"He couldn't have!" McKinnon's voice bordered on hysteria. "He knows I'd talk--I'd tell them--"  
  
"And would they believe you?" Severus demanded. "To them, you're just a raving lunatic. To _me,_ you're a raving lunatic. What do you think will happen to you?"

"It's too late to go back, Dad," McKinnon replied, looking to the empty space at his left. "I can never go back."

This was far from ideal. McKinnon was losing his grip on reality--and he could become violent if the Aurors tried to take him by force. Malfoy was absolutely brilliant, Severus had to credit him with that much. There was a very good chance that McKinnon would be killed in the ensuing struggle, and extremely likely that he would take Severus with him.

_Bloody, bloody hell._

_============================_

Remus peered through the door of the front bedroom. As it was the only room with a light inside, it was obvious that this was where McKinnon was holding Severus.

A closer look confirmed his suspicion. Severus was chained to the ceiling, arms above his head. The young man was standing in front of him, a silhouette against the light. Beside him, Mariela peeked over his shoulder, and bared her teeth.

He couldn't make out much of the conversation that was passing between the captor and his victim, but he distinctly heard the word 'Aurors'. McKinnon seemed more agitated than ever, as he walked back and forth and glanced out the window.

"We've got to act now," Mariela whispered. "He's not paying attention, this may be our best chance!"

She was right, and Remus knew it. They had to get Severus out of McKinnon's reach, and they had him outnumbered two to one. There was no time to lose.  
  
"Aim to Stun, not kill," Remus whispered back. "The boy may not be stable, but he must face justice."

Mariela nodded in agreement, though it was apparent that she had her doubts. "On three?"  
  
"One..."

"Two..."  
  
"Three..."

_"STUPEFY!"_

(A/N: Another cliffhanger chapter! I'm really bad, aren't I? ;) Though now that I am no longer in school, hopefully I will have more time to write. That said, it's doubtful that you, gentle readers, will have to endure another wait as lengthy as this one has been.)


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Eleven

Patience was a virtue, according to some. To Lucius Malfoy, it was a necessity. All Slytherins knew how to wait, when it suited them. Seated in his study, amidst the rich green leather and dark polished wood, he was forced to practice said necessity. Reflections of the light danced on the window glass, as the torches flickered.

Malfoy was waiting for news of Anthony McKinnon's tragic demise…and that of Severus Snape. Soon, Loki would deliver the news. All he had to do was be patient.

Malfoy wished dearly that he could see the expression on McKinnon's face when he realized that he had been used. McKinnon was nothing more than the means to an end. If Malfoy's instincts on human nature were correct—and they always were—then for McKinnon, that realization would inevitably lead to a nervous breakdown. McKinnon's use after killing Snape would be over. He could go to hell right along with Snape.

The Aurors, whom Malfoy had tactfully alerted, would be arriving at the Shrieking Shack very soon.

He smiled to himself, and leaned back further into the soft leather of his chair.

All he had to do was wait.

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The spots of white slowly left Septimus Snape's vision, and he blinked to clear his eyes once and for all.

There was something moving outside. It was barely visible through the dust on the windows, but there was definitely movement.

"What the…"

Septimus put his hand on Snuffles' back, trying to steady himself. The dog seemed supernaturally patient as he tried to stand up. He had to see what was happening. Peering through the dust-caked windows, he at last made out what was outside.

"Aurors," he murmured. "But why are they here?"

He steadied himself at last, cradling his broken arm. Were they here to rescue his son? If so, why did the thought fill him with dread, rather than relief?

_Perhaps because you know McKinnon won't go down without a fight, if it comes to that?_

Snuffles circled around him, as though waiting to catch him if he fell. He couldn't help flashing a grateful smile at the dog. It took his mind off the overwhelming guilt he felt over allowing McKinnon to capture him so easily, and use him to get to Severus.

_I should have fought harder, I should have done whatever I could to keep him away from Severus!_

And if Severus died, just when Septimus was finally realizing that he would never stop loving him, it would be an unbearable tragedy…not to mention an ironic one.

_Oh, how I detest irony._

How had he let things come to this? In some ways, he felt a strange connection with Bartemius Crouch—a wizard whom he had known but never liked, the two having very different views. They had, however, other things in common—including the fact that both of their sons had allied themselves with the Dark Lord. Septimus had thought, at the time, that Crouch was the braver man for turning his son in, when Septimus himself had lacked the courage to do the same. His attempt to redeem himself and prove his courage had backfired drastically. Crouch, had he been capable of doing so, would probably have been laughing at him now.

Because whatever Severus had done in the past did not matter now. Love had a way of being unconditional, whether either party liked it or not.

Septimus had been a Slytherin in his own school days, and consequently been taught that to show emotion meant giving others control. Had he taught that to his own son, even inadvertently? Was there any point in wondering what he had done wrong in the past?

_When will things make sense again?_

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"_STUPEFY!"_

Anthony turned around, as though maneuvered by some sixth sense rather than any human reflex. He had seen the two people standing in the doorway at almost the last possible second. Almost.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!"_ he shouted, at nearly the same time.

Their wands flew from their hands, and Anthony was able to get a good look at his uninvited guests.

"Lupin!" Snape exclaimed, though the strain of his current uncomfortable position was all too apparent in his voice. At this point, the chains binding him to the ceiling were probably all that was keeping him upright.

"And me," said the woman beside Lupin. "I did warn you, I wasn't going to give up."

"Of course not, Mariela. That would have required the use of common sense." Snape shot back at her. "Where is my father?"

"He's fine," Lupin replied. "He took nasty fall, but he'll—"

"Enough!" Anthony shouted, glaring at the intruders. "I don't know who you are, nor do I care. Tell the Aurors that if they enter, the Professor dies."

"We aren't with the Aurors," Lupin said evenly.

"Oh? Then why are you here, pray tell? Sightseeing?"

"We're here for Severus," Mariela said, clenching her fists at her sides.

Anthony cast an amused glance at his prisoner. "Well, Professor!" he clapped Snape on the shoulder as if they were old friends. Snape gritted his teeth, the area still sore from the extensive torture Anthony had subjected him to. "I had no idea your comrades-in-arms were so dedicated."

His eyes narrowed. "More Death Eater scum, perhaps? It would be a pleasure to destroy more than one of you today."

"They aren't Death Eaters," Snape began. "And you—"

"_CRUCIO!"_

"I will finish the job, Snape, if you contradict me again," Anthony said coldly, as the curse subsided.

"Contradiction is a side effect of being wrong," Mariela snapped, glaring at Anthony as though she would have dearly loved to break several of his limbs.

"Mariela, _calm down,"_ Lupin hissed, though clenched teeth.

Anthony watched the pair with a detached amusement. "Go on, please. This is most entertaining."

"No doubt the Aurors, wherever they may be, would agree with you," Lupin said dryly. "I suppose you must know it's not a coincidence that they are here?"

"You're trapped, McKinnon," Snape spoke up from behind Anthony.

"I swear, one more word from you," Anthony snapped, "And I will--"

"Then do it, unless you plan to bore me to death!" Snape replied sharply.

"No!" Mariela shouted, her eyes wide.

"How do you want this to end, McKinnon?" Lupin asked quietly. "As it is, Azkaban is a very real possibility for you now."

"I am serving justice," Anthony replied.

"Killing an innocent man is justice?" asked Lupin, in tones of mock astonishment. "You know better than that."

"He's not innocent!" Anthony cried desperately_. Father, help me! Where are you now? Help me!_

He looked around, as though half expecting to see his father standing there, offering his guidance and support. But Malfoy had been the only one that had offered those things…and Malfoy had tricked him, according to these people.

_NO! He wouldn't, he couldn't! He was trying to help me! I know he was! Please, Father, believe me! Please! I'm not like the people that killed you---I'm not like Severus Snape!_

But if these people were telling the truth, it would mean that everything Anthony had believed in was wrong.

_It's got to be a lie, please, let it be a lie!_

"McKinnon," Mariela spoke up quietly. "It's over."

"_NO!"_

Anthony stepped in front of Snape, glaring at the interfering pair. "It isn't over—not until Snape is dead, and my father's spirit can rest!"

"And your becoming a murderer will help him rest?" Mariela countered.

_"I AM NOT A MURDERER!"_ Anthony roared. He pointed to Snape, his anger mounting. _"I AM NOT LIKE _HIM_!"_

"Then prove it!" Lupin burst out. "Release Snape!"

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me, Lupin," Snape spoke up icily from behind Anthony. "Turn around and face me, McKinnon."

"Severus!" Mariela cried. "Don't be a fool!"

As though under a spell, Anthony turned slowly to face his captive.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"It's more difficult to kill a man when he's looking right at you," Severus said, his body still aching from the various tortures he had endured. "Let's see how you handle it."

"Have you gone mad?" Mariela shrieked. "Get away from him, McKinnon!"

But Anthony's eyes were fixed on Severus now, and he did not seem to hear anything else.

If nothing else, Severus was tired. He was tired of reliving horrifying memories, feelings of long-lasting guilt and regret. The physical torture was just that—physical. The pain beyond bearing was the look on Kevin McKinnon's face when he knew that he and his son had been condemned to death. And no physical pain that McKinnon had employed would ever erase it from his memory.

His own father would have died trying to defend him. After so many years of believing himself better off without his father, it was somewhat difficult to process. At least his father was still living…thus far.

Even if McKinnon succeeded in killing Severus, it could very well turn into a bloodbath. Mariela would try to take the boy on herself—and she would die, as would Lupin. To say nothing of his father, somewhere else in this house. McKinnon would not be satisfied until he had destroyed everything in his path, including himself. The boy no longer cared who would get hurt or killed anymore, that much was obvious.

Severus' mind raced. The Aurors were still outside, as far as he knew…but their presence inside the house could easily incite McKinnon to violence before overtaking him completely. Was there anything he could say that would not make the situation worse?

"Your father made me swear that you would survive. I saw to it that you did," Severus began. "He was a genuinely honest man. Look at yourself, McKinnon. What would he say if he knew what you were about to do? Before you start a bloodbath that will result in not only our deaths, but the deaths of three innocent people, ask yourself if your father would have condoned _that!_"

Strange, it sounded as though someone else were speaking through him…he did not sound like himself in the least. Then again, he no longer _felt_ like himself, either.

Lupin spoke at last. "You have to choose, McKinnon. Will you avenge your father's memory, or will you honor it?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

During all this, McKinnon had been watching Severus with wide eyes. It was as though something inside him was slowly breaking, destroying everything he thought he had known. Fragments of memory intertwined with flashes of realization swirled before his eyes

_The flash of green light, the Dark Mark…_

_His father's face, his eyes kind and loving._

_His mother's laugh…_

_Lucius Malfoy, manipulating him, using him…_

_He had become a pawn, a tool._

_And now he would be a murderer._

_In his mind's eye, he could see his father, disappointed and angry, turning away from him in disgust. _

"_NO!"_

He backed away from Severus, dropping his wand to the floor—along with Lupin's and Mariela's. He was staring straight ahead now, as he backed against the wall and sank to his knees.

"Dad, what's going on? Why do we have to move?" he asked, addressing no one in particular.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mariela watched him as she scooped up the three wands from the floor. McKinnon didn't seem to notice her. Stepping forward, she waved her wand at Severus' chains. They promptly vanished, and Remus stepped forward to keep Severus from collapsing to the ground. She went to his other side, and the two of them supported Severus between them.

"I can walk," Severus said irritably.

"I would be very impressed if that were the case," Lupin responded.

Mariela cast a glance at McKinnon. "Is he…what's happened to him?"

"He's in shock," Remus replied, "I imagine he will come out of it, but what he'll be like when he does is anyone's guess."

She glanced at McKinnon again, feeling a strange mixture of anger and pity. What Malfoy had done to him was horrible—but the real tragedy was what McKinnon had done to himself. It had been the door that had allowed Malfoy to manipulate him so thoroughly.

"We ought to Stun him," she said, surprised at the bitterness in her voice. "Just in case."

Remus nodded. "Will you do the honors? We can take him back up to the castle, and decide from there what to do with him."

"_Stupefy!"_

McKinnon was knocked over by a burst of light from Mariela's wand, and lay sprawled on his back. His auburn hair, pooling around his head in the dim light, bore a disturbing resemblance to blood. Mariela shuddered involuntarily.

"Here, help Severus a moment," Remus said. "I'll take care of him from here."

Mariela opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a series of bumps and thuds on the staircase, accompanied by sounds of shuffling and…panting?

"Snuffles?" she inquired. There was a loud bark in response.

Severus glared at Lupin. "You brought _him?_ Consider yourself lucky I don't have my wand or the energy to wield it!"

Mariela's brow furrowed. Bringing a dog along on a rescue mission seemed strange to her, but hardly a hexing offense.

_I suppose he's just not a dog person._

"Yes, it's Snuffles," Septimus remarked, as he and the dog appeared in the doorway. "And me. What happened to McKinnon?" He stopped short the sight of his son. "Severus!"

Severus looked up sharply. "Father? Are you—?"

He stopped, as though embarrassed to admit that he'd been worried at all about his father. For his part, however, Septimus seemed to understand. He simply nodded, smiling.

If their present situation hadn't been so dire, Mariela would have thought it a touching family moment. Or at least, as touching a moment possible for the Snape family. Especially considering that they were standing in the bedroom of a dilapidated house with Aurors about to break in.

"McKinnon is incapacitated at the moment, Father," Severus explained, gesturing toward McKinnon's limp form. "If you don't have any other probing questions, I suggest we leave this place before some very awkward explanations are in order."

"I like that idea," Mariela said fervently, looking toward the window. "Through the tunnel, I suppose?"

Lupin nodded. "Healer Snape, if you're feeling better—"

"I am," Septimus replied. His eyes were slightly brighter than usual, but his voice was steady.

"Then would you be so kind as to see to Mr. McKinnon? We need to transport him back to the castle."

The darkening of Septimus' expression shocked Mariela. "Why not let the Aurors have him?"

Mariela wondered that herself for a moment. Then she realized...

_The Aurors take McKinnon, McKinnon tells them why he was after Severus...and, as Severus himself said, a lot of awkward explanations will be in order. Is revenge on McKinnon so important that we are willing to sacrifice the reputation of someone we care about? Or at least, that Septimus and I care about?_

The answer seemed obvious. Septimus, however, did not look as though he thought so.

"Because the situation is extremely delicate," Lupin explained. "I promise, all will be explained once we get to the castle."

"Very well," Septimus said. He pointed his wand at McKinnon's prone form. _"Moblicorpus."_

"_Vamanos,"_ Mariela said, taking a step toward the door.

(A/N: I read HBP, and my fan fiction no longer adheres to canon. That's okay, though. I still intend to finish this story, no matter how long it takes me. Long live the Half-Blood Prince!)


End file.
